Faking It	   Faking It

 by Alex SisterWolf

  

 Author's website: http://neverpromise.badb.net/

 Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended or implied.

 Author's Notes: 

 Story Notes: 

 

 

 Ray looks very serious, frowning in concentration, as he slowly enters
me. As always, he's gentle, careful not to hurt me. Something bluesy on
the stereo-- Joan Osborne, I think. I catch the refrain, <i>Oh my crazy
baby, try to hold on tight</i>, and it's almost enough to make me laugh.
Or cry. I can't tell anymore. 

 I run my hands up and down his back. He's sweating lightly, breathing a
little fast. I try to seem turned on, for his sake. I know how badly he
wants to make this right. I don't think it's possible anymore. But I still
love him, I do, even with all the anger and the misunderstandings, and oh
god, I can't think about it now or I'm going to lose even the low buzz of
arousal I've managed to gather together. I do love him. Still. And I'd do
just about anything to get that wounded look out of his eyes. Except the
one thing he wants. 

 I can't stay. 

 Fifteen years of marriage. Over twenty years together. I can't do it
anymore. I'm suffocating. 

 He kisses the side of my throat, nibbling gently below my ear. He knows
my body inside and out, knows all my spots. I should be shivering and
moaning from that touch. I try to fake it. 

 I don't feel like I'm even in my body right now. There's a fuzzy distance
between the physical reality-- Ray, warm and strong, bending down to kiss
my nipples-- and the dark, empty place where I am in my head. I just want
this to be over. 

 Tears are gathering at the corners of my eyes. I open my eyes wide,
staring up at the ceiling, willing the tears not to fall. It would kill
Ray if he saw that I was crying while he made love to me. Even with
everything the way it's been-- the fights, the jealousy, the blame-- I
can't stand to hurt him that way. 

 I shift my body, canting my hips up and locking my ankles together, high
around his waist. It's not the best position for me-- my thighs ache
slightly with the unaccustomed stretch-- but Ray's always said it feels
incredible for him. I start to moan under my breath, slowly stepping up
the volume and intensity. Ray drops his head onto my shoulder, randomly
kissing and mouthing at the skin. I can feel the tension start to mount in
the muscles of his back. He's getting close. Thank god. 

 His thrusts speed up. He props himself up higher on his elbows. His eyes
are closed, his lips pressed tightly together. He looks like he's in pain.
When we were younger and happy, I used to tease him about that. Now it's
just a sign that this will be over soon. 

 I rake my nails down his back, crying out, bearing down on him with my
pelvic muscles. He gasps raggedly, thrusting hard and out of rhythm. 

 "Oh god--" He sounds lost, helpless, in extremis. "Oh, god, Stella,
Stella..." Shaking, he collapses onto me, clutching at my shoulders. 

 I slide one hand into the soft hair at the back of his head, cradling him
against me. <i>Oh, Ray.</i> God I wish we could make this right. 

 He's still inside me, though he's softening. I relax my legs, let them
slide down the backs of his thighs. He shivers all over and raises his
head, looking down into my eyes. "I love you." 

 "Love you too," I whisper. 

 "It's really over, isn't it." He almost sounds calm. He sighs and closes
his eyes and kisses me, sweetly, chastely, on the lips. Like we're
thirteen again, trading innocent kisses behind the gym. Pain squeezes down
on my heart and I can't catch my breath. We'll never be that innocent
again. 

 "Yes," I say. "It's over." 

 I can't fake it anymore.  

End Faking It by Alex SisterWolf: alex@badb.net

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