I think I love you.
So what am I so afraid of?
I'm afraid that I'm not sure of
A love there is no cure for.
I think I love you.
Isn't that what life is made of?
Though it worries me to say
I've never felt this way.
I don't know what I'm up against.
I don't know what it's all about.
I got so much to think about.
Believe me,
You really don't have to worry.
I only want to make you happy
And if you say,
"Hey, go away," I will, but I think better still
I'd better stay around and love you.
Do you think I have a case?
Let me ask you to your face:
Do you think you love me?
I think I love you.
— I Think I Love You, David Cassidy ~
My instincts are pulling me in five thousand directions at once.
One instinct is telling me that I have to get the fuck out of here, and fast. It is the same instinct that usually leads to me heading home as soon as possible after hooking up with some lovely girl or toothsome guy. It is the instinct that protects me from getting hurt - run away, and avoid emotional entanglements.
But it is too late for that. My emotions are fully entangled.
Another instinct is telling me that I have to go and find Viggo. Find him, and accost him, and physically show him just what I am feeling for him. I think I might be falling for him. While the thought that I may be in love with Viggo fills me with indescribable happiness, it also fills me with this odd, anxious kind of fear.
Which leads me back to my first instinct. Run away!
I need to take a moment.
I flop down on the couch that faces the window in Viggo's living room, and stare out at the ocean. The waves crashing on the shore are distant, and their rumble is only faintly audible. Birds fly over the beach, diving occasionally into the water to catch some fish. A sailboat is navigating out to sea, traveling to who knows where. The sun is reflected in the faceted and rippling waves of the water. The image is so peaceful: I can feel it lulling me into some sort of meditative state.
Fear. Why am I afraid? I mean, this is Viggo we are talking about here. He's my friend, so he obviously cares about me. He has been nothing but completely wonderful to me - treating me with respect, compassion and now, desire.
So why the fear? Doesn't it seem like everything is going well?
Of course, there is the fact that he might see this whole thing as a fling. We haven't exactly talked about what is happening between us, yet. He knows what I am like. He is well aware of the fact that I regularly have sex with people just for the sake of having sex. For pleasure. To get off. To loose myself. It was all about catharsis.
Only this thing with Viggo isn't like that. Now, it is all about him.
What if he honestly thinks that I'm only here for the sex? Can't say as I would blame him - because it was damn good.
And it is not as if I can tell him how I feel about him. Because, again -there is the fear. Fear that if I tell him that I'm falling for him, I will scare him off. There is also the fear that he will laugh at me, saying it was all just a good time for him, nothing more. Fear that I will put everything on the line, and then experience soul destroying rejection as a result.
I have both been there and done that, and have no desire to repeat the experience.
Again, this leads me back to the running away. And the fear that I if I leave now, Viggo really will think that it was nothing but sex for me.
I can't do that. I have to find some way to let him know that he means more to me than that. I want more of him than mere friendship. I want him to love me back.
Running away is not an option.
"Hey." I was so lost in my thoughts, that I didn't even notice that Viggo had walked into the room until he was right in front of me.
"Hey." I focus the full force of my best 'happy Orlando' grin on him as he settles down on the couch beside me.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's great. Why do you ask?"
"Well, you just looked a little upset, is all. You had that crease in your forehead that you get when you are worrying about something. Plus, you were biting your nails." I look down at the fingers of my right hand, the nails of which are a little tattered and shredded. Shit, I didn't even realize I was doing that.
"Huh."
"So what did Elijah had to say?"
"Nosy little hobbit. Wanted to know who I left with last night." I grin at him, still trying to mask the vulnerable state that this little introspective bout has left me in.
"Did he now? What did you tell him?"
"Nothing, actually. Which I'm sure is just going to annoy the fuck out of him. I usually tell him everything."
"And here I was thinking I was the only one who got to hear about your exploits. I think I'm jealous now."
"Why be jealous when you don't just get to hear about it now, you get to experience my exploits first hand? Quite literally, I might add."
"That I did."
I pause for a moment, not quite sure how to broach the subject that I want to talk to him about most.
"You know, they're going to start pestering me about my whereabouts first thing tomorrow. I think that Elwood is pretty suspicious of the fact that I begged off surfing today. What do you think we should tell them?"
"Well, that depends." Don't tease me Viggo. I'm feeling a little vulnerable here.
"On what?"
"On whether you want to take this further or not." He looks at me, almost shyly, and I recognize the same uncertainty and vulnerability that I have been feeling, reflected in his eyes. Holy shit. I'm not alone in this.
I turn to him, and look him square in the eye. "Yes. Viggo, I do want to take this further."
"Really?" What looks an awful lot like relief works his way over his features, and a huge smile breaks out on his face, lighting his eyes up.
"Really." I respond with a grin of my own.
"I'm glad to see that we're on the same page." And with that, he kisses me. Somehow, it is different than the kisses that we have shared up until this point. It is more tender and loving. His lips caress mine gently, as his arms fold around me. I settle into his embrace and feel the tension that I was holding melt from my body.
I break the kiss to ask him a question, because I have to be sure: "So, are we like a couple now?"
"I think so." He nods solemnly.
"That's fucking fantastic!" Joy. Oh joy. Oh bliss! I now have my very own Viggo to shag whenever I want. Could life get any better than this? I am sure that I have just the hugest grin imaginable on my face right now. Actually, scratch that. It is Viggo who has the hugest grin on his face. And he is directing it towards me. God, I love him. I really do. I have to kiss him. I have to touch him. I have to let him know.
I kiss him, and it feels like all the joy in the world is poured into this one simple sensation of lips moving against lips. Our arms tighten around each other, holding us close together. Such a simple thing, kissing is, but such a wonderful thing. His lips against mine, his tongue gently searching and seeking mine, his hand behind my head, holding me steady -I could kiss him like this for hours.
Perhaps we did end up kissing for hours - I totally lost track of time. It was so perfect: sitting in front of Viggo's picture window, kissing him as the waves pounded the shore outside. It sounds like a scene out of a tacky romance movie — you know, the ones where the screen fades to black as the passion rises. Only it wasn't some tacky movie, it was real - and Viggo was really in my arms, kissing me as if the world existed only for the two of us.
We ended up twined around each other, our faces cradled in each other's hands, which were moving in soothing patterns over the skin. How long we spent kissing before he suggested we move into the bedroom, I don't know.
We fell together onto the bed, and he covered my body with his. My skin sang where his touched mine, wondrous sensations emanated from each point of contact. He glided against me, his hands moved over my body -touching, caressing, embracing. My hands tangled in his hair, drawing him towards me, trying to absorb as much of his essence as I could from his kiss. Our bodies moved against each other - undulating, and striving for more contact. When he sensed my need for him, his slicked fingers penetrated me - he stroked me until I was moaning desperately, and shaking with the absolute need for him.
When I felt that I could truly take no more, he made himself ready, and slowly sunk into me as I held him in my arms, my lips moving upon his. We began to move together, in a slow and deliberate rhythm - our bodies perfectly understanding what the other needed. As the pace quickened, as my moans became louder and more passionate, a strange sensation overtook me. I can't quite explain it, but I knew then that we were not just having sex, we were making love. It was like this buzzing, euphoric feeling had taken over my senses, which went far beyond the physical -into the realm of the spiritual. I felt connected to him in everyway possible.
It was all too much. When the pleasure overcame me, I was looking into his eyes, and repeating his name over and over again. It was then that I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I was his.
TBC
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