author: now [ 1 ]

And then here I am.
Pressed against a wall by this man—the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
And then he’s pulling me—leading me—dancing with me in a sort of… foreplay tango toward the bed.
And then he falls over me, pushing me into the mattress.

I try to keep telling myself…
This is happening
This is happening
This is happening

Thom Yorke…
Thom.
Mother.
Fucking.
Yorke.

Is on top of me.

And I’m happy. I could DIE right now, and I’d be content.
But Thom wants more than this… and he’s not a necrophiliac…
So it’s good that I don’t die.

He’s telling me, “I’ve wanted this for so long…”
He’s wanted this… dear god! If he only knew how much I’ve wanted this… this, ever since I first saw him.
He’s saying something else, something along the lines of “you’re so pretty…” but I can’t tell because his words are muffled by the skin of my neck (my neck…) where his lips are firmly pressed.
And he thinks I’m pretty…well, the man is clearly blind, but it is…his only flaw.

He shifts on top of me and I still can’t believe I’m even here. His erection presses into my leg… a hard, hot reminder of what we’re here to do. And yes, I am 100% willing to do it.

Cut to us, alone in the room as I ask him, what was it he called me up here for?
And him… shirtless (oh god!) saying
“sex… is one of the very best… the very best things…”
and I say, sir?
And he answers “especially…with a very pretty boy…
“a very pretty boy…such as… yourself…”

Cut to him, moving, pushing, forcing me against the wall, shoving his tongue in my mouth and his hand down my pants…
And me, wondering where the hell I came upon the fortune to be here…
Between a wall (a real wall…) and a beautiful man (the real Thom… Yorke)
And now… cut to now… with him, hands shoved into my hair… one of them untangling itself as he traces my jaw, my neck my chest… it trails to my stomach, the hem of my shirt and he’s lifting it, now it’s at my shoulders…my elbows…my wrists… and he pulls it off, holding its crumpled, lifeless form—still warm from the heat generated in our fervor…
And–god! —He’s all over me… will—will he…
Apparently he will and he is… deftly unbuttoning my jeans… and they’re off… hit the floor and he stands up, looking at me (how can he look at me for so long?!)
It’s as though I’ve spoken my thoughts aloud… and he answers…
I just can.
Don’t tell me, DON’T TELL ME!! (Don’t crush my dreams you dream crushers.)