Sweet, Sweet Mess

[Claire]

Teaser: Why did I say this? Am I trying to give you an out just before it’s too late? Too late for what? I don’t know how to get out of this hole we’re digging for ourselves here! More than that, I don’t want to! What am I so scared of? When did the love I feel for you, still feel for you, start to frighten me?
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The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only. All sexual acts depicted in this story take place between consenting adults. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely coincidental.
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Title: Sweet, Sweet Mess
Author: @Claire
My stories: Claire's Cesspool of Sin

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This is my first consensual story. And it's probably the most carefully crafted story I've written so far. It's also the first time in 3 months that I wrote something just for fun, not for a contest with the intent to support the site. I had a lot of fun writing this, I really needed that.
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Sweet, Sweet Mess

I’m getting annoyed. I’ve been ready to pay for my hot chocolate for ten minutes now, but still no waiter in sight. It’s the first day with good weather during my vacation and I do not want to waste any more sunlight in this cafe, as cozy as it may be. I grab the empty mug in front of me that still exudes the aroma of delicious chocolate. I head towards the counter, done waiting for someone to come to my table. Well, they do have a lot of guests here right now, so maybe I could be more forgiving for the delay. Then, I freeze. I can’t believe it. It’s you.

I recognize you instantly - your posture, your head resting on your fist, the pen twirling between your fingers like always, caught mid-thought. Who writes on paper these days? Of course you do, or you wouldn’t be you. A tear escapes my eye before I even notice that I am about to cry. I wipe it away quickly. You’re no longer the remedy for my pain, nor are you the enemy I once perceived you to be. So why can’t you just stay in my memory, where you belong?

I take a step closer, still watching you from a distance. You look older now. Not 17, like when we got together. Not 21, like when we broke up. The six years since I last saw you feel short in this moment. That boyish smile on your lips looks almost like a man’s now. I wonder whether you’re still trying to become a writer. ‘Trying’, as in you not having succeeded yet. Maybe you did? I never bothered to check.

I could just walk past you, ignore you. Instead, I stop behind the chair opposite you, observing you, waiting for you to notice me. It takes you a while. I see you make a note. Your handwriting has always been pretty, it still is. You called it the expression of a writer’s soul back in the day - you pretentious little prick. And I was all over you for it. I see the ring on your finger. Then I catch your eye. Your gaze slowly wanders up my body as if you were hesitant to just stare at some random woman besieging your table. I can see the moment of recognition on your face.

“E… Elena?!”

I smile at you.

“Hi, Julian.”

You look as baffled now as I did just a minute ago when I first saw you.

“Wha… What are you doing here?”

Your voice is curious and friendly, but you lack your usual composure. You’re 27 now, but still unravel the same way you did at 17 when something catches you off guard. No matter how much we age, we remain the same at our core. I see you put the pen down. Your thumb is free now and it instinctively reaches for the ring on your finger as if it had to make sure it’s still there.

“I’m on vacation. Just doing some sightseeing today. You too? Quite the coincidence, us meeting like this, huh?”

My casualness feels suspicious even to myself.

“Uhh, no… actually, I live here. I mean, not in the café, obviously. But there are apartments above it. Mine’s on the fifth floor. Please, sit down.”

You gesture towards the seat in front of me. I hesitate for a second, then sit down, setting the empty mug in front of me.

“But you’re right, it is still a crazy coincidence. I never expected to see you like this again, just walking in here. Can I get you anything? My treat.”

I twirl the small spoon inside the empty mug, tilt my head from left to right as if I’m contemplating the offer.

“Hmm… actually, I was just about to leave when I spotted you. I’ve been here for almost a week now, but this is the first day with decent weather since I arrived. So I still have a lot of sightseeing to do.”

This wasn’t a no – and I wasn’t standing up to leave either.

“I could tell you about some nice spots you won’t read about in any tourist guide. I can’t help you with the weather, though. I swear, it’s better usually.”

I hear you chuckle as you finish your sentence. I give the spoon a moment of rest, fold my hands in front of me, and rest my chin on their back. I look you in the eye, not shying away from your gaze for a moment.

“What’s so funny?”

I ask with a smile on my face.

“Nothing, I was just thinking…”

Your voice carries a hint of amusement.

“… what would our 17 year old selves think if they could see us like this, talking about the weather?”

I agree with you, that is an amusing thought.

“Oh, our 17 year old selves were awkward idiots, too. They weren’t just self-aware enough to notice that.”

Are you now? You laugh at my remark. It doesn’t sound fake.

“True that! … You sure you don’t want anything?”

You ask me again. The ring on your finger, it’s gold. It doesn’t suit you.

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You seem to be doing well for yourself. An apartment with a living room this big can’t be cheap in a city like this.

“So? What can I get you? Coffee?”

I chuckle slightly at your question, brush a strand of hair behind my ear while doing so. Hands clasped together, you look at me with friendly eyes.

“You do realize we’re just coming from a café, right?”

I tease you a little. The confidence you exude is a mask. You offering me coffee forgetting the context of our meeting is proof of that. It’s just what you do when someone comes to visit. Without knowing what you are supposed to do, you flee into ritual. You are as nervous as I am with me standing in this living room I shouldn’t be in. You point at me.

“Good point. So, what else can I offer you? Wine? Tea? Just water?”

You offer me wine, but not beer. Did you remember that I don’t drink beer?

“Surprise me.”

A small challenge for you. You nod with a forced smile on your lips.

“Alright, then make yourself comfortable while I’m in the kitchen.”

You are asking me to stay in the living room, implicitly. I get it. You need a moment away from me. I don’t mind the break either. I feel a little high just being near you, breathing you in. I can almost hear you sigh in relief as you disappear into the kitchen. I take the opportunity to look around a bit.

“So, uh, Elena, how much longer do you plan to stay here?”

I hear you call me. I like your living room. The bright furniture, the large windows, the view of the street below us, the cat tree in the corner. I spot a photo of you with a woman. Your wife or fiancée, I presume. Dark hair, no smile on her face, expressive eyes, the freckles make her look young, probably younger than she is.

“For another week.”

I browse through your book shelves. A lot of fiction, obviously, then books about writing. So these are yours. Then a shelf with a lot of psychology, sociology and history. Are these her interests or is that you doing research for your stories?

“Are you still into photography? You always had a good eye for the perfect shot. There are some places nearby I‘d love to see you capture with a camera.”

Flattery. You always know what to say. Praising my skill, not my looks. Showing a real interest, showing that you remember, making me feel – oh – so – seen. I wish I could say it didn’t work.

“Uh, yeah, thanks… but I left my camera in my hotel room for today. But you could show me some of those places tomorrow, if you want to.”

I get distracted from the book shelves by a sudden sound. The hiss of a cat. I look at the black ball of fur, sitting on its cat tree. It’s glaring at me from a distance. Must be hers then.

You return. Wine it is. You come close to me, two glasses in hand.

“White wine for you, right?”

Of course you remember. I inspect the glasses for a moment, one red and one white. I look at the hand offering me my glass. You took your ring off. I might have believed you sometimes take it off at home - if your hand wasn’t shaking so much. I let you simmer in the heat of the moment a little longer, waiting a few more seconds than necessary before I take the glass out of your hand.

“Always, thanks.”

You take a step back. With the glass in my hand, you seem to relax a little. We both take a quiet sip. I taste nothing. My raging heartbeat overshadows simple sensations like the taste of wine in this moment. You break the silence.

“So, six years, huh? What do you think? Do I look like how you expected?”

You raise your arms slightly, presenting yourself to me. You’re so overeager that you almost spill some of your wine in the process. I always liked this playful side of yours.

“I don’t know. What’s with the goatee?”

You grin, then stroke your beard in an exaggerated manner.

“Yeah, I actually thought about shaving it off after I found a few gray hairs in it last week.”

I take another sip from my wine.

“I like a little gray in a man’s beard. It’s hot.”

You gulp. You flee for another sip, just like me.

“Heh, thanks! But still, I could do without the mirror reminding me I’m closer to thirty than twenty now. Today the hair’s gray, tomorrow it’s gone.”

You ruffle your hair as if to make sure that it’s all still there. Alright Julian, just for today, I’ll remember you as you want me to.

Another moment of silence. Our glasses are getting emptier faster than you are supposed to drink wine.

“You look grea...”
“So, who is she?”

Fuck! I regret asking the question the moment the words leave my mouth. You look at the photo I nodded at. In the brief moment you don’t see me, I gulp down the remaining wine in my glass. Why did I say this? Am I trying to give you an out just before it’s too late? Too late for what? I don’t know how to get out of this hole we’re digging for ourselves here! More than that, I don’t want to! What am I so scared of? When did the love I feel for you, still feel for you, start to frighten me?

“Uhh… That’s… Mia. Mia… she’s… m…”

I interrupt the silence that your hesitation offers me with the truth.

“I don’t care.”

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“You kept this?”

It’s been eight years, but I remember everything. The old bookbinder’s patient smile as he walked me through the options - full-grain leather or buckram, gold embossing or simple print. Ten of your short stories, bound across two hundred and fifty pages, each one paired with its own illustration. Three hundred bucks I didn’t really have, but I paid it anyway. It felt like so much money back then.

“Of course I did. How could I get rid of this?”

My fingers slide over the cover, feeling the texture of the leather. It feels familiar, just like your shoulder brushing against mine while we’re sitting on your bed indulging ourselves in the nostalgia of our shared memories.

“I just thought… Never mind.”

I let myself fall onto the bed, holding the book close to my chest with one hand, the other resting just above my head. I look up at you, still sitting on the edge. For the first time since I met you today, I can’t tell what you’re thinking. You don’t look at me. And I don’t know whether you can’t or simply don’t want to.

“It… It wasn’t all bad,… was it?”

Now you give me a short glance before you look away again. So you can’t. Are you asking me for permission to remember our time together fondly despite how it ended?

“No…”

I am unable to say more than that but I shake my head slightly as if to put more weight behind my words. But you don’t see that. It would be so much easier if all of it had been bad. You stand up with a sigh.

“Sorry for bringing down the mood.”

Somehow you manage to make even your back look apologetic as you throw up your hands in an attempt to dismiss the sincerity of what you just asked. I don’t say anything, just look at you standing there.

“Anyway, let me put that back into its box. I made sure nothing would happen to…”

You stop mid-sentence as you turn around and truly see me for the first time today, lying there with your precious memory clutched to my beating heart. Could you articulate what made you stop if I put you on the spot to express your thoughts?

“… it.”

I’m not handing you the book. You come closer, putting one knee onto the edge of the bed next to me, careful not to touch me in the process. You lean over me, slowly, as if you’re still hoping that my hand will let go of the book on its own. It won’t.

For the first time in six years, I feel your hand on mine. Our fingers interlock and you lift my hand off the cover that is now quaking with the rhythm of my heated breath. Your thumb briefly brushes over my knuckles before you put my hand down above my head next to the other. I am painfully aware of the weight of the book on my chest. You seem surprisingly calm in this moment. Your eyes slowly wander back to my heaving chest. You let your fingers slide beneath the trembling book, brushing them against my chest in the process.

“Julian…!”

I can’t say more than that, but it’s enough to make you pause for a moment. The gravity of our shared memories presses the back of your hand into the soft tissue of my breasts. You look into my crying eyes.

“I’m here.”

Please, I’m begging you: don’t look at me with those caring eyes that see me, and only me.

My shivering hands find your neck. I’m trembling. You reach for my face. You’re about to wipe my tears: gently, carefully, lovingly, as if they were the most precious thing in the world. I know you. That is why I can’t let you do this. I slightly shake my head, bite down on my lip, struggling for control over my emotions. You are about to touch me. Before you do, I pull your face towards mine with such force that our teeth almost collide as I kiss you. I won’t submit to your performative empathy, not this time.

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You grow harder in my mouth. Your precum is sweet to the taste on my tongue and I lap it up eagerly. My body isn’t different from yours, producing excess liquid so fast you can barely keep up licking it all away. I feel your smooth tongue parting my lips, circling my clit, lapping the little sensitive knob between my legs. And whenever you decide to plunge your tongue inside me I find myself wishing that it was just a little longer, that it would just reach a little deeper. Earlier I mocked you for your goatee, but now I love how it rubs against my clit. Have you gotten better at this? Or is my excitement making me easy to please? No matter, just don’t stop eating me out and let me taste more of you, all of you.

Your cock muffles my moans and I don’t complain. I tease the soft purple head with my tongue, squeeze the sweet nectar it’s not willing to let go without a fight out of it with my lips. I enjoy the sensation of your unrelenting hardness, your musk thick with insatiable desire, your undisguised need for me. We’re naked, but the feeling of your skin on mine is so hot that I wish I had more clothes to shed to cool myself. I am drenched in sweat and so are you. And then, a jolt goes through my body.

You suddenly slapped my ass and the effect ripples through my body. Instinctively, I press my legs together, my naked tits jumping with the rest of my body. You force an involuntary moan out of my mouth directly onto your cock as if it’s a microphone I’m supposed to scream my lust into. I’m on top of you but you just had to assert yourself in this moment, didn’t you? I don’t need to see the satisfied grin on your face. I can feel it with my pussy’s lips while you keep frenching my overflowing cunt.

Careful, Julian. Don’t forget who’s in charge here. I drag my nails up your thigh, scraping over your balls, making sure you remember exactly who’s in control. I let my teeth glide along your shaft, just to remind you of the position you’re in. In response, you besiege my clit with your tongue and I bite back the moan you so desperately want to hear. I keep sucking you off with abandon until you groan in pleasure. I’m so wet, I can’t imagine you’ll ever forget what I taste like after today.

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You’re on top of me, filling me. I love the slight curve in your cock. It makes you hit all the right spots, just like I remember. I watch the sweat drip from your face, trailing down your cheek, pooling at your jawline before it finally falls onto my skin. I expect each drop to evaporate in an instant, leaving only salt and heat behind.

The sound of your hips crashing into mine fills the room, each thrust shaping my love canal a little more in the image of your cock. I moan unapologetically, shamelessly demanding the attention of your neighbors. I can’t stand the heat, and yet I pull you even closer to feel more of you, wrapping my legs around you, drawing you further in.

In this moment, I don’t want you to stop fucking me, ever. Please, Julian, stay inside me like this forever. I have no intention of waiting for your orgasm before I surrender myself to my own. I’ll be coming more than once before this is over.

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You’re behind me, thrusting into me, reaching even deeper than before. Your cock squeezes the wet arousal out of my body, dripping from where you tear me open, drenching the fabric beneath us in more than just our sweat. My face grinds against the bed sheet every time you impale me on your cock. In between my excited moans and your ragged breathing I can hear the frantic scratching of her cat at the bedroom door. It doesn’t approve of us.

Tell me, Julian - what's it like to pound your Ex’s imprint deeper and deeper into the mattress you share with your wife every night, one desperate thrust at a time?

I come again, and I’m ecstatic that this doesn’t get you to slow down for even a second.

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I’m on top of you, riding you. You’ve had your fun, you’re my plaything now. I increase the speed. I’m close again and so are you. Your hand squeezes the breast above my heart. Can you feel it underneath? The heartbeat that’s desperately trying to keep up with our rapid fire fucking? My cunt devours your cock.

“Ah… I’m… ha… close.”

I love the desperation in your voice.

“I… mhm… know.”

I put my hands on your chest, giving my body the leverage to drive down harder, increasing the intensity of my thrusts. You look at me as if you expected something else. Did you really think I’d let you pull out now just because we didn’t have a condom at hand? We’re making such a sweet, sweet mess here anyway, what does it matter? I see you still trying to hold on, but the increasing strength of your hand on my breast tells me how you are losing control.

“Come,... Julian!… Ah!... Come… inside me!”

And that is what sends you over the edge. You and me together.

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I don’t know how much time has passed since I laid my body to rest next to yours. Normal sensations are slowly asserting themselves in my mind again. My throat is dry, and my body screams for water to replace what it sacrificed for that session of seemingly never-ending fucking.

I place my hand on my heart. Good, it’s still working and slowing down. I glance at you. I was on top of you in the end but you’re just as much out of breath as I am. What sensations are returning to you? Lying naked and drenched in your sweat and mine, I’m actually starting to feel cold. I wonder, will this be the last time I feel you pouring out of me? Or the first time of many?

“Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck…!”

The moment of realization hits you hard. I see you bury your face in your hands. It was about time you stopped acting like you don’t care in this toxic love affair. What’s done is done, Julian. Even the cat has given up at this point.

But the pain on your face tugs at my heartstrings. Do I have the right to comfort you after what we just did? Do you want me to? I’ll be here for you, if that is what you want, but I won’t let you hide from this moment. I roll onto my side and put my hand onto your shoulder.

“Julian…?”

I plant a tender kiss on your arm. My presence doesn’t seem to reach you. I can’t deny that this hurts me. Maybe what we did was a mistake. Maybe it was the best thing ever. But we did it together. Don’t shut me out. I need you to own this, with me, together.

I look at you. Your deflated cock rests against your body, still glistening with a generous coating of our combined fluids. I crawl on top of you. My exhausted body protests against the implication behind this movement. The mess we made drips out of me onto your stomach before I come to sit on you with my labia gently hugging your tired penis.

That gets your attention. You remove your hands from your face and I can see that you shed a few tears in silence.

“Elena,… I… we…”

I have no idea what you are trying to say, probably because you don’t know either.

“It’s okay. I’m here.”

I return your words to you. Then I take your hand, pressing a kiss to each knuckle before placing it on my heart. You should be able to feel it, my heartbeat. It’s calm now. You look at me with confusion on your face.

I lower my body until my face is close to yours. You don’t stop me, and I think I understand why. In this moment of hurt, you seek comfort. Even if it comes from the source of your pain. I place a gentle kiss on your cheek, brushing away one of your tears.

I feel your other hand tentatively rest on my back, unsure whether it’s okay to hug me in this moment. With a mischievous smile on my lips, I lean in and whisper into your ear.

“Let’s do it all again.”

I feel your tired cock twitch in response.
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And that is it, the end of my first consensual story. If you enjoyed this story, please like, comment and subscribe! ... Ok, forget about subscribing (although that is technically possible on our forum here, too...), but seriously: If you read this and found some enjoyment in it, share your thoughts with me. I had a lot of fun writing this and I'm dying to know what part of this story resonates with my readers the most.

[Vela Nanashi]

Good question in the teaser, why would love be frightening?

I am looking forward to seeing what your consensual stories will be like or your first at least. As for most carefully crafted, I am not really sure what that means, I know I like your writing though. It is good to write for oneself, that to me is the best kind of writing.

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It is annoying when one can't get what one wants fast enough for sure, especially when one needs another hit of chocolate, how inconsiderate of the waiters to not be more attentive

Though this time maybe it was a good thing?

Hmm that is an intense reaction for seeing someone from ones past, makes me curious about the past, I think honestly one who writes is a writer, maybe just not a successful one, but that does depend on how one defines success too. Maybe a reason for wanting to write on paper is that it does not require batteries and also it can't be distracting unlike a phone or tablet or computer, also you can use it nearly anywhere, and if you have readable hand writing on top of that it is great

At least he still remembers you, oh btw, good that it is in first person, will let me sink into character more

Elena and Julian.

This may be culturally strange thing to ask, but ring on his finger, is that a wedding band or such? Or just some other type of ring? Will ignore it for now Gold ring that does not suit him, he may not agree of course.

Awkward idiots unite! Cute good dialog.

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The male shows off his nest for the female, and she seems at least slightly impressed (sorry I am in silly mood today apparently)

It is customary to offer your guest something. Ok getting a bit more information about him and her too, well stocked book shelf is good Also remembering is good, and it may not be that he is just trying to impress you, but rather that he would like to have some beautiful places captured, to have pictures of them near him for inspiration when writing, at least that helps me.

Setting up a date next day, heh, cat protecting its owner, they know more than we think. Playing games with him, testing him, something I don't quite understand fully, I am aware of it being a thing though.

Both of them clearly want each other still, excite each other, though maybe that is not the right thing to do, if he has a wife or fiancee, still the forbidden can make things more exciting, and also sometimes when another has picked a man, he can be more attractive, since he got picked. It is a bit strange for a man to care about his age, at least I think so, that is not usually a concern for men, it is cute that he cares though.

Not nice to interrupt him with a question, but said question is a valid one to ask, as for why trying to give him an out, I suppose there is some guilt there, and you know you are too drawn in to escape and hope he can do it for both of you maybe. Mia eh. Then interrupting him again saying you don't care who she is heh.

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I don't think everyone gets rid of everything they got from old relationships, especially if the breakup was amicable, and if the gift is that meaningful too. So it sounds like how it ended was not actually good, makes me wonder what happened, not all bad at least, but still bad? Also are we sure the empathy is performative, I feel like I am missing a lot, but I love the intensity of emotions, strange that a kiss would be the escape from what caring emotions to lust?

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Hot 69 oral sex scene described in beautiful playful detail there, sorry for not capturing more of it in the comment I got swept into it too much.

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Needing more closeness than is possible, hugging him closer with your legs, I love that, making sure he can't escape too, not that he would want to

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Oh we figured out she is his wife, interesting, hot scene again, love that he keeps up the pace as you cum, as he should

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Very hot, insisting he cum for you, in you, that is what feels best after all

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Missed opportunity to stay on top of him after he came at least until he goes soft enough to slide out, but that might also be a bit too intense/sensitive for him.

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I think they are a hot couple, but there is a bit of toxicity there too. The story is very hot though.

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Very hot story, I hope you write more stories in general and consensual ones too, sorry that my commentary dropped in detail when I got sucked into the story, it is hard for me to surface then when I am inside deep intense things that make me feel, so please take that as a sign you did a good job on those scenes

[riffraff]

I really liked how you managed to evoke these feelings of melancholy and yearning. It felt very bittersweet. Which is why I’m interpreting that this relationship won’t last for very long.

Your narration reinforced this feeling for me. To me it read as if the narrator was trying to cling onto every moment knowing that it’ll pass in the not so distant future. That soon this affair will end up as ephemeral memory, eventually forgotten by both of them, as they move on with their lives (though I know that the ending sounded more hopeful).

This story was surprisingly intimate, especially for a forum that’s mainly focusing on noncon fantasy. Honestly, it kind of caught me off guard a little bit and I had to get into it at first but I liked it. Also liked how short those sex scenes were (still were very spicy) and how they didn’t overstay their welcome. I really got the impression that the focus was really on the relationship between these two characters and sex was just an expression of it.

Overall, I liked it very much! You really know how to create an atmosphere.

[LaLia]

Hmm, I'm still not quite sure what to make of the story.

First of all, I thought it was great to read a first-person story from you, and the fact that the perspective is "I" and "you" is quite unique, I think, and I haven't read anything like that before. Actually, "I" and "he" would be common practice.

Your writing style is as strong as ever, and the long conversation in particular was very convincing. Everyone probably knows a situation like that when you meet someone again after years. But here, perhaps a little more time could have passed to break the ice. It felt a bit like, "Okay, come with me, let's have sex." The allusion to the ring also remains somewhat open.

Now this: I was actually kind of disappointed that it was completely consensual. Yes, the sex scenes were well described, but it wasn't anything special. Something different, but personally, I've liked all your other stories better so far; sorry.

[Claire]

@Vela Nanashi I love reading your comments. It's like getting a window into your head.

As for most carefully crafted, I am not really sure what that means

It just means that I invested a lot of time writing a story this short. There are entire sections in this that are carefully designed to make a single line work. And then there is all the subtext in the dialogue, the introduction of each new scene that needs to immediately reorient the reader after that abrupt time jump, balancing Elena's sharp, sometimes judgmental tone with not making her completely unlikeable. That required just much more planning than other stories I wrote.

This may be culturally strange thing to ask, but ring on his finger, is that a wedding band or such? Or just some other type of ring? Will ignore it for now Gold ring that does not suit him, he may not agree of course.

The implication here is that he is either married or engaged.

but rather that he would like to have some beautiful places captured, to have pictures of them near him for inspiration when writing, at least that helps me.

Actually, the main implication here is: "I want to spend more time with you", but it's disguised as a compliment. If you ever read the story again, look closely at Julian's dialogue. There is barely a line from him early on that does not imply "Please stay" or "Let's meet again after today".

I don't think everyone gets rid of everything they got from old relationships, especially if the breakup was amicable, and if the gift is that meaningful too. So it sounds like how it ended was not actually good, makes me wonder what happened, not all bad at least, but still bad? Also are we sure the empathy is performative, I feel like I am missing a lot, but I love the intensity of emotions, strange that a kiss would be the escape from what caring emotions to lust?

I left what happened between them deliberately open because it is not important for the story. The only thing a reader needs to get here is that she cares for him a lot and that she's deeply hurt. She perceives his gentle care for her in that scene with the book as disingenuous based on her past experience with him, but she wants to be treated with genuine care more than anything. Whether she's justified in that thought? Who knows? I don't.

Glad you enjoyed the sex scene so much. I loved writing it with these jump cuts in between. That was a lot of fun.

but there is a bit of toxicity there too

And the understatement of the year award goes to... Vela!

[Claire]

I really liked how you managed to evoke these feelings of melancholy and yearning. It felt very bittersweet. Which is why I’m interpreting that this relationship won’t last for very long.

I am not even sure whether this is the start of a relationship or just a few days of passion interrupted by the return of his wife. But I get what you are saying, this is certainly not a healthy start for whatever this is.

Your narration reinforced this feeling for me. To me it read as if the narrator was trying to cling onto every moment knowing that it’ll pass in the not so distant future. That soon this affair will end up as ephemeral memory, eventually forgotten by both of them, as they move on with their lives (though I know that the ending sounded more hopeful).

That's an interesting read of the tone of the story. Admittedly, not the one I had in mind but I see it now that you point it out. What I had in mind for her narration, this permanent struggle for control and her biting remarks was simply: "I was hurt in the past, now my guard is up around you."

This story was surprisingly intimate, especially for a forum that’s mainly focusing on noncon fantasy. Honestly, it kind of caught me off guard a little bit and I had to get into it at first but I liked it. Also liked how short those sex scenes were (still were very spicy) and how they didn’t overstay their welcome. I really got the impression that the focus was really on the relationship between these two characters and sex was just an expression of it

I was hoping that the consensual tag would prepare readers for that, but I am glad you got into it nevertheless. It was new for me, too, to write a story without any noncon elements in it, but I liked the challenge.

If you like stories that are not just about sex, then you might like quite a few of my stories. I always I write with a larger story in mind and I hope that the emotional investment into the story carries over into the sex scenes, and the sex scenes add something to the story beyond just titillation. I think I have written just one story that had no larger story to tell and that is also by far my most boring one. If you liked this one here and want to check out something with NonCon elements to it but that is similar in its treatment of characters and dialogue, you might enjoy It's okay, I feel a little lonely, too.

Overall, I liked it very much! You really know how to create an atmosphere.

Thanks, and I enjoyed reading your comment a lot! I'm not gonna lie, I am a little starved for attention for my writing since my stories have only a niche appeal and this community isn't large enough yet to have a lot of people that appreciate that. So getting a comment like yours every now and then means a lot.


@LaLia No need to apologize for not liking a story. I appreciate that you took the time to read and comment anyway. And I get what you are saying. If the first three scenes don't get you emotionally invested in that feeling of stumbling into an affair, not really knowing how you got there, then I can totally see how the ending might fall flat for you. But regarding noncon elements: That would have undermined the emotional core of the story. And you can trust me: If I tag a story consensual, then there will not even be a hint of noncon elements in the story.

[Lucius]

I take a step closer, still watching you from a distance. You look older now. Not 17, like when we got together. Not 21, like when we broke up. The six years since I last saw you feel short in this moment.

That Pynchonesque temporal density, a blessing and a curse, well, not a curse, if one learns to flat-affect and memory-hole the worst of hurt, a source of twinges then. Do we partly live in 2001, 2013 and not in 2025 only? Does this question make any sense at all?

That boyish smile on your lips looks almost like a man’s now. I wonder whether you’re still trying to become a writer. ‘Trying’, as in you not having succeeded yet. Maybe you did? I never bothered to check.

Elena didn't?

I could just walk past you, ignore you.

Do it.

I would if I were you.

But then there would be no story.

Perhaps a great poet could make a poem out of it.

You called it the expression of a writer’s soul back in the day - you pretentious little prick. And I was all over you for it.

And the protagonist would be again, although for different reasons. If the humanity is vouchsafed just a couple more centuries, future psychologists are going to produce fantastic, really astounding work.

You ask me again. The ring on your finger, it’s gold. It doesn’t suit you.

I must be a bit dense -- does Elena think that Julian shouldn't marry anyone at all?
I've heard such words directed at me a couple of times, agreeing heartily...

You offering me coffee forgetting the context of our meeting is proof of that. It’s just what you do when someone comes to visit. Without knowing what you are supposed to do, you flee into ritual. You are as nervous as I am with me standing in this living room I shouldn’t be in. You point at me.

That's an astute observation.

“You kept this?”
...
“Of course I did. How could I get rid of this?”

You never get really angry, Julian? Keep at it, and Elena's going to change that.

On the other hand, there's a photo of myself with an ex-GF hanging on my wall -- okay, in a dark-ish corner. But that's just because I don't care.

I won’t submit to your performative empathy, not this time.
...
Careful, Julian. Don’t forget who’s in charge here. I drag my nails up your thigh, scraping over your balls, making sure you remember exactly who’s in control.

Submission it isn't.

'[T]hat session of seemingly never-ending fucking' is really hot.

I wonder, will this be the last time I feel you pouring out of me? Or the first time of many?

I suppose Elena can guess correctly.

“Let’s do it all again.”

I feel your tired cock twitch in response.

Indeed she can.

[Claire]

Does this question make any sense at all?

Maybe? I'm not sure I fully get it, to be honest. But for Elena, the past definitely feels very close to the present in this moment and affects her deeply.

Elena didn't?

I didn't have in mind that she was lying, when she said that, but we are seeing the events through her eyes. So she could be lying here.

I must be a bit dense -- does Elena think that Julian shouldn't marry anyone at all?

Seeing him with a ring on his finger just stings. Maybe he also said in the past that he's not the type for marriage. Who knows?

'[T]hat session of seemingly never-ending fucking' is really hot.

Thanks, I had a lot of fun coming up with some of the lines for that sex scene.

Indeed she can.

Fun fact, I originally wanted to let the story end on just "Let's do it all again." But I thought it would be better to include his body's reaction there.

Thank you so much for the feedback, Lucius. I wasn't entirely sure after reading your first few annotations, but it seems that you liked the story.

[Claire]

@Vela Nanashi, @riffraff, @Lucius, @LaLia, @riffraff

Now that the story has been released for a few days, I thought I could share a bit of the idea behind it. I wanted to let it stand on its own for a while before I revealed that. This is actually my attempt to turn a song into a short story. The song that inspired me is Mess by Rain Jewels feat. Lilla My



Lyrics:

► Show Spoiler

Mess (feat. Lilla My)
Rain Jewels

Oh, seventeen
I know what you mean
We can go anywhere
Even if there’s nothing there
I don't really care

Even if
Even if all would end
I trust you to say when
And I’ll be holding my pen
A kiss, and then

Love turns into fear
And it won't just disappear
And I don't know how to get out of this
Mess we’re making here
And you act as if you don’t care
In this toxic love affair
And it's up to me to do something ‘bout this
Mess we’re making here

All alone
You pour out of me by the ink
I remember you
As you want me to
No regrets, oh I really do
Care for you
You’re not my remedy nor my enemy
But still in my memory
You belong, don’t you see

Love turns into fear
And it won't just disappear
And I don't know how to get out of this
Mess we’re making here
And you act as if you don’t care
In this toxic love affair
And it's up to me to do something ‘bout this
Mess we’re making here

Oh, what a sweet, sweet mess
It's a sweet, sweet mess
We’re making here
But I would do it again
Oh this sweet, sweet mess
What a sweet, sweet mess
But I would do it all again

Love turns into fear
And it won't just disappear
And I don't know how to get out of this
Mess we’re making here
And you act as if you don’t care
In this toxic love affair
And it's up to me to do something ‘bout this
Mess we’re making here

(Love turns into fear)
You act as if you don’t care
In this toxic love affair
(And it's up to me to do something ‘bout this)
(Mess we’re making here)

I always thought that it would be fun to write a story that captures that feeling of what it's like to stumble into an affair, not really understanding how you got there as you look back. That is why I included these abrupt scene transitions that force the reader to fill in the blanks. Than you put the tone of that song on top of that and you truly get a sweet, sweet mess. The story incorporates many lines from the songtext directly. There are entire passages in the story that I wrote just to make one line from the song sound natural in the context of the narration. This was really a unique writing challenge. And I am extremely happy with the outcome of this one. I love the emotional depth of the story, the character dynamics, the dialogue that's overflowing with subtext. But it took a lot of time compared to how I usually write to make all of that work.

Anyway, I just thought you might be interested in the inspiration for that one. And it makes me think we should have a contest that uses song titles as themes maybe...

[Lucius]

Thank you so much for the feedback, Lucius. I wasn't entirely sure after reading your first few annotations, but it seems that you liked the story.

I was steering my comment away from the 'I liked it' model a bit too hard, I'm afraid. I have, and it was a cool idea to use a song in a non-obvious way as the starting point for your story.