See The Rust Through Your Playground Eyes

I leaned down a bit, "N-not h-here." he muttered.

He pulled away and took me by the hand leading me up the stairs to his room.
I guess I don't care if he only wants me for this, I can't deny him anything. And turning down those lips feels like a sin.

When we got to his room he opened the door and then closed it behind me. He pulled me close to him again. We ended up in the same position as the other night, Frankie pushed up against the door.

Just as I was about to lean down and kiss him, there was a soft knock at the door. We all but jumped apart. Frankie scurried to the sofa and sat down, opening a random coloring book and picking up a crayon. I stood there and just stared at the door, another knock, then back at Frankie.

"W-who is i-it?" he asked.

"It's mom." I heard Linda answer.

I slowly made my way to the door and opened it. Linda was standing there with a box in her hands and a death glare on her face.

"H-hi, m-mom." Frankie greeted from his seat at the sofa.

She pushed past me -rude, bitch- and went to sit down next to Frankie. I walked over and sat in the armchair in front of them.

"Frank, your books are here." Linda said, opening the box and pulling out one of the many books in it.


Frankie groaned and slouched in his seat.

"What books?" I asked.

Linda glared at me.

"His te-"

Frankie interrupted her, "M-my s-school b-books. I'm home s-schooled a-and it's h-horrible."
I smiled a bit, he sounded like a little kid being forced to do his homework.

"And you are very behind, so you should go ahead and catch up." Linda got up and left. Not sparing a good-bye.

Frankie was busy looking through the box.

I sat down on the couch next to him, he scooted off so he could take out all the books, sitting at my feet. He huffed each time he took out another book, I would be annoyed too, there were lots of them, at least twenty. He groaned and leaned his head on my knee.
"S-stupid b-books." he muttered.

I ran my fingers absentmindedly through his hair, "Don't cuss, Frankie."

He huffed and leaned his head on the couch so he was looking at me, "W-why n-not?"

"Because, it's rude. And good boys don't cuss." You have no idea how idiotic I felt for saying that, but there was really no reason for him to not cuss, other than the fact that he sounded older and I liked my innocent little Frankie. I'm such a perv.

"W-whatever." he muttered.

He picked up a random book and and a pencil and got up, ushering me to follow him. I stood and walked with him to his over-sized bed. He climbed on to it and sat in the middle, sitting up against the many pillows and setting his teddy bear next to him, I sat down next to him.
"S-stupid m-math." he muttered.

I peered down and saw that he was working on a sisth grade level. Pretty high for someone in Frankie's position.

He started to do them, he answered correctly to all of them despite the fact that he wasn't really paying much attention. On the second sheet of problems he started to get confused. He would bite his lip or the tip of the pencil out of nerves, then he just randomly grabbed my hand.
At first he just held on to my pointer and middle fingers. Then he would raise then to his mouth, but lower them before they touched his lips. He wasn't paying attention, I ,on the other half, was staring intently at him. When he did raise them to his lips I felt those stupid butterflies. The tips of my fingers where just brushing against his soft pink lips, but that was enough to have my heart doing summer-salts and acrobatics.

He frowned down at the work page, looking concentrated and deep in thought. He parted his lips the smallest bit, I could feel his warm breath on the tips of my fingers. He flipped the page, having finished the other one, and started a new, more complicated page.

He furrowed his brow deeper. And parted his lips more, grazing his teeth over the pads of my fingers. I felt my heart beat like crazy in my chest and I'm sure he can hear it. When he ran the tip of his tongue over the pads of my fingers, I felt my eyes widen slightly. He turned to a new page and sighed in frustration. I felt him twirl his tongue around my pointer finger, then he slipped it deeper in to his mouth, sucking softly. My jaw dropped and I felt my eyes get even wider. As the school work got harder, so did his sucking. And, oh, my god. This feels a lot better than what it should.

He took my finger almost all the way out of his mouth and started to nibble on the tip, his tongue poking out every once in a while and swirling around the tip of my finger. Then he started sucking again. I think I made some sort of weird noise. Something like a gasp, only a lot more embarrassing.

He looked away from his text book and looked up at me with big doe eyes, beautiful hazel orbs shinning with innocence and bathed in the unrecognizable emotion.

"W-wha?" he asked, words muffled by my finger.

"I just- nothing." My eyes darted from his mouth to his eyes.

His eyes widened, like he suddenly realized what was going on. He didn't let go of my hand though. He still had his fingers wrapped around mine, and the tip of my pointer finger still pressed softly to his lips.

"S-sorry." he muttered.

"It's...okay." I whispered. My eyes still fixed on his perfect lips.

"R-really? Y-you're n-not m-mad?"

So soft and pink and perfect and god, I want to kiss him, "Not at all." I answered.

He furrowed his brow a little, unconsciously nibbling on the tip of my finger. His tongue occasionally running over it.

I moved closer to him, so we were so close I could feel his warm breath on my face. I placed my other hand on the space of bed next to him to hold me up. I leaned close to him, he looked even more angelic up close.

Eyes wide and bright. Skin a perfect, naturally tanned tone. Hair shiny and slightly curled. Lips a beautiful tone of soft pink.

He was such an angel, a masterpiece, a once in a lifetime opportunity.
He could be a model if he wanted. He had the beauty, the body and the grace. He was perfect in every way. Feminine in some aspects but boyish in others. He was so beautiful I could barely believe it, could barely believe someone so perfect could exists. Didn't they say 'perfection doesn't exist'? I think I found perfection. Frankie is perfect, in every way. He's beautiful, innocent, funny, just generally nice. He was made to be admired. He was made for a hopeless idiot with no chance with him at all like me to fall in love with. He was made to be seen, not touched. I had stepped over that line, had gone much too far. I had touched and felt. I had kissed those perfect lips, had ran my fingers through that chocolate hair, had tainted that perfect skin. I had had a taste of what he was, what he could give. And I wanted more.
He looked up at me with half lidded eyes.

I'm such a horrible person. Craving for an angel as pure as Frankie. I don't deserve to have so much as known of his existence, let alone have him. I shouldn't do this, I could hurt him.
But I'm selfish, I want him. His lips on mine. His skin under my fingers. I him. I want to have him, I just can't help myself.

He took my finger deeper in to his mouth. I stared and felt my jaw drop. He looked so insanely sexy right then -I feel bad just for thinking that-, his eyes half hidden, but I could still see them sparkle with lust. He knew what he was doing this time and he wasn't planning on stopping.
He took my finger out of his mouth and hung his arms loosely around my neck. I leaned down slowly, wanting to taste those perfect pink lips again. He leaned away, though, and for a second I thought he had rejected me. But was put to rest when I saw he laying down and pulling me with him. I went without complain. Moving so I was directly above him, holding myself up by my knees, which were on either side of his hips, and elbow, which was rested above his head.
He tangled his fingers in my hair and pulled me down slowly until our lips were almost touching. We stayed like that for a second, lips brushing the others ever so slightly but not kissing, just looking at each other. And in that moment I really, truly realized how much I loved him. All that 'if you love him let him go' stuff, is just shit. If you love him, really love him, then don't ever, for no reason, under no circumstance should you let go. If you love him then you can, and will, get through all the shit life throws at you.

I finally pressed my lips to his, relinquishing in the soft gasp that escaped his lips. He kissed back, still soft and innocent.

Not kissing just for the fun of it but because I wanted to feel. To feel that it was real, that he was real, that there was someone with me and we wasn't just a random puzzle piece floating around in space. Feeling that there was a place where I belonged and that if we tried hard enough, if I closed my eyes and just let myself feel, that I could imagine the rest of the cruel, judging world had disappeared and it was just us and we could be safe and at home behind closed doors, in each-others arms.

Because that's all I ever needed. A place to call home, a person to love, that would love back. Someone to hold close and never let go.

That's what I wanted, what I needed, and that's exactly what Frankie was willing to give me.

Notes

I am so sorry you guys, like you have no idea. I just had the worst couple days of my life and I am so so so so so sorry.

Have a new chapter and PLEASE don't hate me :/