My Heart Goes Out To You

I would like to briefly apologize for the time span in which you all had to wait for over the period I’ve been… out of it. I need to be inspired to write, and Tory & Maxwell are no exception to such an improvision. Furthermore, I continue to barricade myself in senseless ridicule… For that is why I live to write. I am just another person, only I do not fit into the typical categories. I am a still standing portrait in my own drawing forever cursed to paint a background. Why does this matter? Because it does… I am empathizing with Tory, maybe its vice versa for Tory to me? Who knows…? It’s just, synonymous. Well, read and review. I feel you all don’t deserve an ending author message… my sadistic streaks within… Pathetic.

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Chapter V: Feel

Shame. That was anything but what Tory felt the very moment. His thoughts were too preoccupied with the taunting imagery of Maxwell’s dulled senses on his lips. His only desire to meld with it. The touch of another man too drugging to taste… Tory was liquefied.
Adrenaline was the only thing Maxwell could feel running. Never had such a craving consumed him as soon he would to he. A never-ending story played sultrily on his lips, only to find an end in the luxury of his flesh. Maxwell was burning.
If only for the bound restraints of air, they pulled apart, the two discovered heated frostbite. Their eyes locked, for just a moment, in the forever binding midst of pleasure. Tory’s in analogical foreplay, Maxwell’s in carnal rage.
“Tory,” he breathed. With all of his might, he coaxed the gods to grant him another taste. He leaned down, his face only inches from Tory’s.
“Maxwell,” was the exhaled reply. Dirty eyes would forever bathe in eternal brown, only to glow in sight of Maxwell. His heart nearly skipped as he discovered the distance at face, the two were at. The temperature was beginning to rise.
Their lips met again in a fiery kiss full of passion and hate. Passion to be divinely sensual in touch… Hate to be of nothingness to life’s realities. Their only need to feel their fleshed bodies in friction… Maxwell cursed himself endlessly for not taking this boy to his apartment—there he had a variety of lubricants, and more than enough room to get undressed.
Maxwell withdrew, as hard as it was, from Tory allowing them to breathe in some much needed oxygen. Especially Tory. Filling his lungs with air, his mouth, his teary eyes… It was then, Maxwell realized his melancholic appearance and questioned his state of mind and asked Tory’s dismay.
“Tory?” he asked calmly. Inside, he craved the scented taste of a cigarette, he could not stand the innocent weaknesses of this stated boy. It was utterly pathetic, he thought. Then why did his heart wrench at the sight of him?
“Tory, what’s the matter?”
“I…I…I can’t do this,” was his shriveled response. As it was, he was wholly worthless, and if only not in the presence of Maxwell as well. Low was only an understatement in his usually calm demeanor.
“What do you mean?” Maxwell’s fury did wonders not to show. Who the hell did this boy think he was? The fucking Virgin Mary or something?
“I mean, I should…stop…we shouldn’t…I’m sorry.”
It took a second for Maxwell to digest what he was hearing, for him to contemplate a solution as to solve it. The progressing boyfriend.
Obviously, he would be concerned, then innocently sweet. Perhaps, even affectionate if it would help his sex score chances. Maybe even offended if things became too drastic for him to get. All the while he would still be the same lecherous Maxwell.
“Tory, don’t,” he motioned caressing his cheek. As usual, he was effortlessly perfect in tact. The boy was clearly in heartfelt translation the very second.
“Maxwell?”
“Don’t leave, I want you to stay with me.”
Golden was the material of thy—Tory would be wooed in understatement and Maxwell would no longer have to rely on the confinements of his pants.
“I can’t… we aren’t going to be…” Tory’s heart leapt through his throat, sickly emitting out the sweet nothings in tender atonement. How could he refuse? How could anyone refuse?
“Of course we are, darling.” The statement was broken to reality, sending the two of them into ardent oblivion. To Maxwell, lust. To Tory, grieved erratum.
“No…we aren’t…this relationship isn’t…right…”
Despite what he felt, Tory could not let himself be taken, nor Maxwell. He didn’t deserve this—Maxwell should be with someone better. Someone cogent. Someone dazzlingly attractive. Someone… Anyone but him.
“Don’t tell me that you’re not into men, Tory, please.” Hurt. ‘Twas the time for past solemn offense of sexuality. Of rejection, and what not that would be ‘misunderstood.’ Tory may as well apologized for everything at the start.
Relent was it not, for the jolted pain would not release his heart. Maxwell was everything, especially understanding and sensitive to dismay and refusal. How could he deny his feelings for someone so… immaculate? He wanted everything but to be with this man, the consequences and sacrifices would be too dire to pay… Maxwell
“It would only bring us pain…” Tory felt exactly pitiful for the way he chose to categorize it, but how else could he without giving it away?
Besides, Maxwell was only toying with him; there was no way someone this perfect could show any genuine interest in him. It was all just some stunt to…to… do something, although there could be nothing he could think of he had to offer.
“Pain? What pain is it to be with someone you luv—” Tory cut him off.
“Please, what could possibly come out of us, think of it rationally.” He had lost all sense of being, of morality and sunk low enough to take on a logical outlook.
“You don’t think rationally when you’re in love,” he shot back.
Tory cocked his head to the side to see a genial Maxwell welcoming him with opened eyes. There was no way he could refuse him now—the offer was too tempting, and try as he might, he could not deny his need for a man’s touch.
“M-Maxwell… I…” His silenced statement was shunned by the vocal yet, heated lips of Maxwell. He could only melt into his touch. Volitional was that of his hands and they entwined themselves in Maxwell’s.
This was when time should stand still, and never move… No matter how urgent it needs to. Lost was Tory’s heart as it cursed him for knowing time’s length but declined doing anything about it. All he relished in was the feel of his lover’s lips.
Ticks and tocks could be heard miles away, chanting a never-ending mantra of past, present, and future. Dulled were they not as Tory disappeared in regarding them, and came searing back into the lips of a certain lecher. Maxwell.
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That’s the end of chapter 5. I honestly, don’t hope for your enjoyment of it but would like it. Review and tell me how I should start off the next chapter.