La douleur exquise- the exquisite pain of wanting someone that you know you can never have, and knowing that you will still try to be with them.

Our eyes meet across a crowded room.
It could be any room.
But it's not any room.
It's the room that has her in it.

We look at each other. Once. Twice. Three times.
Each time I glance at her, she glances at me a moment later; eventually she smiles.
Oh, how she smiles.
I look round to see if she's looking at someone else.
There's a guy maybe ten feet, to my left.
But it can't be him.
He's not even looking at her.

I look back. She smiles again.
She beckons. I go.
As I draw closer, I feel my heart thudding in my chest.
Feel my mouth go dry. Am I nervous?
I'm nervous.
But why?
Why?!
Because she's beautiful.

I stand in front of her.
She's not as beautiful as I thought.
Her smile is gorgeous, her eyes are incredible.
Her nose is weird, though.
Why am I noticing her nose?
Who knows?
She speaks, and her voice is soft.
Soft enough that I have to lean in and strain slightly over the sounds of music and other voices to hear her.
She asks my name.
I tell her.
She laughs.
She calls me a shortened version I detest.
I tell her I love being called that.
I ask her name.
She laughs.
No names, she says.
I ask how it's fair.
I told her mine.
She says life isn't fair.
She says I can call her something.
She tells me her name that isn't her name.

Some time later, I find myself alone with her.
The two of us. In her room.
I'm sitting in a chair, my hands on the arms, and her on my lap.
Facing me.
Straddling me. I can feel her thighs on my thighs. Soft. Warm.
Her ass on my knees. Softer. Warmer.
Her eyes look into mine, and she smiles that same old smile.
God, I love that smile.

She shifts, and I'm even more aware of her.
She asks me something. I reply.
She laughs. I laugh.
She asks if she can tell me something. I agree.
She leans forward.
I'm aware of her breasts pressing against my chest. Her hair tickling my skin. Her lips near my ear.

I can feel her breath on my neck, my ear, the side of my head.
I can smell coffee and booze and something else on her breath.
She whispers, softly, that she wants me.
She giggles when that makes me hard.
She squirms.
I make a sound.
She squirms harder.
I make another sound.

She kisses me.
I taste coffee and alcohol and something sweet on her lips.
It's odd though.
There's no shiver down my spine. No tingle in my lips. No world-changing moment.
It's easy.
Kissing her.
It's easy. It feels natural.
Like breathing, swallowing, blinking.
Kissing her is just something that is. We both remark on it.
Me happily.
Her reluctantly.

She tells me not to get used to it. Not to want it too much.
I laugh.
She frowns.
She's serious.
All her friends love her eventually, she says.
I tell her we're not friends.
She laughs. She tells me we are.
I promise not to fall in love with her.
I already know it's a lie.
She already knows it's a lie.

Some time later, we find ourselves on the bed. Covers flown back. Pillows in disarray.
We're still clothed.
We soon change that.
She insists we undress each other.
I claim it's too intimate for just friends.
Nonsense, she laughs, it's just intimate enough.

I tug at her clothes.
Layer by layer, she becomes revealed.
I marvel at her beauty.
I ignore her flaws.
And there are flaws.
But I love her, so I can ignore them.

Soon enough, I am revealed too.
She laughs.
Tells me she didn't expect that.
I ask her how she means it.
Good, she says. Very good.
I grin.

I kiss her.
Easily.
Then again.
Easily.
So easily. I trace her body with my eyes.
Lips.
Fingers.
Tongue.
Both eyes open. One eye open. Both eyes closed.
She giggles. Asks me why.
So I can remember her in every way possible, I tell her.
How she tastes.
How she feels.
How she smells.
How she looks.

Stop teasing, she tells me.
Stop. Teasing.
Fuck me if you're going to fuck me.
Don't if you're not.
Patience, I tell her.
I grin.
She pouts.
I kiss her.
She pouts.

Finally, we fuck, like an ocean at storm.
All wildness.
Crashing.
Motion.
Passion.
She nips.
Bites.
Scratches.
I tug. Pull. Grasp. Grope.
We hurt. We fuck. We grunt. We groan.
We come.
First me.
Then her.

Some time later, she is laid out on my chest.
We both smell of her shower gel.
Of her shampoo.
We both smell of her.
We're both warm. Comfortably achy. Comfortable.
She is asleep. I am not.
How can I be?

I want her. I need her.
I have betrayed her.
I have done the one thing she has asked.
Begged.
Told me not to do.
I love her.

And I am damned for it.

Some of you might know this as a different approach to one of my previous prompts; friends with benefits that goes awry.

I won't retread old ground here. If you're interested, drop me a message.