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Afterwards, he takes his time putting himself back together. I don’t—mostly because it’s my apartment, and I can hang around it naked if I want to, letting my cum cool on my skin and enjoying the taste of his still on my lips, but also because that way he has to keep seeing me like this.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” I say, lying to him as he rebuttons the cuffs of his shirt and looks away. “I mean, it was just a one time thing." No it wasn’t. "It doesn’t mean you care about her any less." Yes it does. "It doesn’t have to change things between you two." It will. I smile at him reassuringly, falsely.

He looks up, smiles back.

Weakly.

Here’s a good post since I couldn’t post today.