I opened the door and saw he was inside waiting. One glance and I could see what was coming; I’d seen that look before.
“What?”
I winced at the bitterness in my own voice. I hadn’t meant it to sound that way.

“Alex, we need to talk…”

“We are talking.”
Please don’t let it be what I think it is. Not now.

He gazed at me, concern in his eyes.
“Why are you being like this? I haven’t done anything.”

I made myself breathe and tried to ignore the knot of tension in my chest.
“What then?”
Smiling, he walked towards me and took my hand.

“I know what we agreed. I know this wasn’t supposed to be serious but I really like you. If you’d just open up…”
I looked away, refused to meet his look.
“I know you’re scared, but you don’t...”

“You have no idea how I feel.”
The words bit out of me before I had time to think.
I saw the hurt in his face and felt a small glimmer of satisfaction. Let him hurt.

“Just listen to me. Please. I can’t carry on like this. I need you, Alex.”

I tore myself away.
“You’ve had me. What more do you want?”

“I want you to let me be with you. Not just...” He swept a hand through his hair, agitated. “Not just your body. I want you.”

“I’m my own person. You can’t have me. You never will.”

“I love you, Alex. You must know that, and I know you love me too...”

“Stop it.”

Furious, I turned away from him; didn’t want to hear it.

“What can you do? What can you do if I want to say..”
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

I tried to control the throb of disgust coursing through me. He had to stop speaking. I had to make him stop--
I moved forward sharply and kissed him hard, my teeth pressing against his lip. It was just him and me, with nothing but thin layers of cloth between us. We’d never kissed before; I’d never let him.
I was angry and restless and could feel the thundering of his blood against the furious rush of my own. I pulled away slowly: “Feels different, doesn’t it? You’re not entirely comfortable with it. You don’t know what to do…”

“Yes…”

I gave a dry laugh and stepped back; looking away, at the wall, at the floor, anywhere but at him.

“I told you, you had a ridiculous little crush. That was it. A misplaced fantasy...”

It’s fine. You can breathe…

His gaze burned and he grabbed me and shoved me against the wall. He held me pressed against it and I felt the cold chill of the stone through my back and the warm, thin barrier of his body against mine. He was hard against me, too close and strange and dangerous. I curved my hand against the back of his neck. He looked at me, almost dispassionately:

“I didn’t say stop.”
I pressed my mouth against his, hot and slick. It was a viciously hungry kiss with tongues and teeth, biting and licking as I tried to push harder against him and he tried to arch into me, the bones of our shoulders and hips pressed too hard against each other and it still wasn't enough.

Would it ever be enough?

I made a jagged sound that hurt the back of my throat and opened my mouth further, loved the feel of my teeth scraping against the corner of his lip even as I tried to drink in the small demanding sounds he was making. I pulled away and looked up at him appraisingly,

“God, Callum--”

His eyes were heavy lidded with lust, his lips wet and red. I couldn’t stop now. He saw the determination on my face, must’ve because his eyelids fell even further. I slid one hand around to his back, not caring that the surface of the stone was grazing it, wanting the feel of the muscles of his back moving fluid under my palm, the only obstruction a thin layer of cloth that was clinging to his back already. I knew in a minute I was going to tear the buttons off to get closer somehow and I could feel myself going slow, hot red with the idea of it, with all of this, as I buried his face in the long wet curve of his throat.
I kissed him again and it was better, another filthy demanding kiss with my eyelashes brushing against his, cheeks sliding against each other while our mouths opened hotly again and again.My hands curled ferociously tight at the ends of his T-shirt and then we were in motion, a wild stumbling instinctive rush of motion that I went with and didn't care where we were falling or about the slam of the desk against my back because I had his mouth again. I was on top of him, kissing hot and frantic as his hands moved over me. I heard us both moaning and my arm tightened around his neck. I gasped and pulled down harder to crush our mouths and moans together. His hands were under my t-shirt and I shivered; his fingers climbing my ribs, clawing at skin, pushing the T-shirt up. I moaned and arched up and let him. I slid his T-shirt up to his collarbone and slid my body down between his open legs. He closed his eyes and still cried out when he felt the edge of my teeth, testing and tasting and making him arch helplessly up again. My mouth travelled up, hot and with teeth and leaving a cool shivery sore path along hid chest. He called out again, an incoherent approximation of my name, when my teeth closed on his nipple.
I twisted back up towards his mouth. Breathing hard and ragged against him, starting to move before out lips even met:
“Callum,” I murmured. My voice was thick with hunger, but I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I had to know.
“Yeah,” he murmured back, the longing evident in his eyes.
“Just tell me it was stupid. Say you didn’t mean it. Then we can….we can…” It sounded pleading almost.

Let him tell me he didn’t mean it, he was being stupid.
It would be so easy, so good…

“I did mean it. I do mean it.” I felt the press of another kiss, and his warm, slightly different tickle of breath against my lips. “I love you. I…”
I went still; looking at him with wild, wide eyes, hardly seeing him. I could hear the weakness in his voice. It made me sick.

“No you don’t.” I snarled, the anger burning deep, “Stop.”

I tore myself from him and ran. I left him lying behind me and made myself feel nothing.