Objections

Annie doesn't feel like a kid when she's around Jeff. Her whole body thrums when he walks into a room. His voice makes her skin tingle, and his smile makes her stomach do somersaults.

She sits at the study table, comfortable in her seat, so close to him, but kept at a firm arm's length. Sometimes, she imagines him throwing caution to the wind and kissing her the way she longs to be kissed again. Her body misses the feel of his, so near, so familiar from a few, brief moments before it was gone again and she was left cold.

Love-struck Annie has replaced little Annie Adderall.

At night, her fingers make their way under the covers more often than usual. She sees Jeff above her and hears his breath and his voice mingling with hers in the night. It isn't just her body in her bed; it's theirs, entwined and sticky.

As she comes, she keeps her eyes closed and rolls over, hoping to hold the truth back for as long as she can, but it inevitably seeps back in and she stumbles to the bathroom on shaky legs.

Her eyes never make it to her reflection because she can't face the emptiness inside her.

Jeff has left her open and raw and he doesn't even see it.

She doesn't feel like a kid anymore. Her fingers, her busy little fingers, so industrious as they go about making her come, don't feel like a child's. The noises coming from her lips-desperate, hungry, needy-as pleasure rockets through her, don't sound like a child's. Clenching folds and thighs pressed closed, nipples hard and pleading for attention, she doesn't-

But those are his objections, not hers.

 

********

 

Jeff doesn't see Annie as a kid nearly enough anymore when he's around her. His whole body reacts when she walks into a room. Her voice makes his breath catch, and her smile tightens his chest.

He sits at the study table, uncomfortable in his seat, so close to her, not far enough away to stop his thoughts from wandering to his fantasies. Sometimes, he imagines kissing her the way he's kissed her before. Other times, it's more detailed. His body craves the feel of her, so briefly felt, yet, so familiar from before, from the times he left himself cold by pulling away from her.

Uncaring-Jeff has been replaced by adoring-Jeff.

At night, his hands wrap around his flesh more than he cares to admit. He imagines her above him, his hands on her waist, breasts bouncing as she rises on him. He hears his own breath and his occasional grunts in his empty room. It isn't just her body he imagines, but all of her. She tells him things, whispers in his ear, urges him on.

After he comes, he stays still, not daring to move lest he break the fantasy. He keeps his eyes closed and lets his breathing return to normal. That's when reality always intrudes. He sits on the edge of his bed, head in his hands.

He can't avoid the mirror across from him and doesn't try. This is what keeps him from blowing off his newfound morals.

Annie's left him open and vulnerable and she doesn't even know it.

She's not a kid anymore. He knows this as his hands, his methodical hands, work so diligently to make himself come. It's uppermost in his mind when he's frustrated, hungry, and aching for her. When pleasure rockets through him, he doesn't care about the fourteen-year age gap. Clenching his fists, body arching, pleading for her touch or her voice, he realizes that she-

But those are his objections, not hers.