Post Eleven: What's the Protocol?

Elli

I let the moment wash over me.

Morgan Clery.

Fuck.

As I lay there next to him, I wanted more. I could already feel it welling up inside of me. The desire to be near him again. To feel his touch. I craved him.

He didn't say anything, he just laid there, smiling to himself. I wasn't sure of the protocol. I had never really done anything like this before. It seemed to me that whatever happened next would be the defining moment between late-night hook up (possible one-night stand) or something more. I wasn't adverse to it being a one time thing. I mean, I wanted more. But I could live with just this experience. I would cherish it. It was well timed for what I needed.

Then it began. The other-thinking. The worrying. The cynicism.

Maybe he wanted me to go.

There had been no guidelines spoken of before this moment. We had never discussed what we were doing, or what would happen after we were done. I knew he had things to do, probably a fairly busy schedule. After all, he had clearly told me about how he hadn't wanted to go on a date tonight with that girl from the crew.

Maybe he had just wanted to have a nice night alone, relax, read a book. Jack off maybe while watching TV. I had done the jacking for him, but what now? For all I knew he was laying beside me, wishing I would leave, and here I was beside him like an immovable sack of potatoes.

I brought my hand to my forehead, wiping the sweat away. I had made myself feel sick. The nervous kind of sick. How had all my confidence disappeared so quickly? We had literally just finished, and I was thinking about seconds. Now I just felt like a burden. But what did he think?

I shifted my glance over to him, he had his arm stretched over top his head, his hand underneath it holding him up. He wasn't looking at me though. A possible sign he was hoping I'd just leave without making it difficult for him. After all, who wants to be the one to kick a girl out in the middle of the night?

I put my hand over my stomach, trying to quell the discomfort that was forming. This was awkward. Why should I even do this to myself?

I sat up, leaning over the bed to grab my underwear. I quickly put it on, swinging my feet over the bed in one motion about to stand. But before I could, I felt his hand around my arm, pulling me back.

“Where do you think you're going?” He asked.

I turned around to see him grinning at me. His cute little uneven grin.

“Well...I...” I couldn't think of the right way to say what I wanted to ask, “I just thought...”

“Thought what?”

“I...”

Before I could answer, he grabbed me, pulling me on top of him. He took my face in his hands, and kissed me.

“You're not going anywhere,” he told me rolling us both over on our sides, and holding me close “you have to stay the night. I won't let you go.”

I could smell his sweat, and it drove me crazy again. I raised my hand and began caressing his chest. He kissed the top of my head, and my anxiety began to fade.

“Don't you have work tomorrow?” I offered.

“No, actually. I am done. I fly home on Sunday.”

“Oh...”

“Therefore, I must insist you spend the weekend with me...if you want to, of course.”

I pushed my body away from his, looking up at his face. He looked a little stunned, as if he was worried he had said something wrong. He was worried? Unbelievable.

“You want to spend the weekend before you leave with me?”

He searched my face, as if he was looking for the answer to some sort of unsolvable riddle. Was I really that much of a mystery? Have I always underestimated my powers of allure?

“I do,” he confirmed, pulling me back into him.

Well, fuck it then.

#partone #posteleven #polyamorous #whatstheprotocol #romance #comedy #drama #elli