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You are What I Crave

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It wasn't as though I hadn't tried to ignore it; ignore him. It became more and more obvious as the air between us lingered whenever we were alone in a room, how much restraint it took for him to control himself. I know somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, precisely why he can never have what he desires.

He knows what it means to succumb to his emotions, and I know the willpower that it takes for him to hold back. How he rocks on his heels, in a heavy attempt to keep from closing the distance between our lips when he speaks to me. Or how his soft fingers linger a tad bit too long on my arm when he congratulates me. I know why in his mind, it is forbidden.

He is an old friend of my late father, vowing to him that he would keep me safe, and watch over me. He has kept to his word, but he no longer sees me as a helpless little girl, and I am not. No part of me is helpless, or frail. I don't wake in the night crying for my father, and crawl into his bed for comfort. Not anymore. I am developing, growing into a teenager, and as I age, my bodice has begun to develop into that of a woman.

He regrets his promises, because I can sense that he is faltering. Every moment; every instant that I live under his roof, we lie to each other. We pretend that we don't feel what is always lingering in the air between us. We even go so far as to pretend that our feelings aren't mutual. I did see him as a second father, or an Uncle, but he is neither. Not through blood.

What we want isn't wrong on anything except paper. He is my legal guardian, and he has been since the day I was ripped screaming from my father's house. He has aided me in my growing, and given me everything my heart desires. Almost everything.

I still pretend as though I have those nightmares ( sometimes I really do still have them ) and that I am in need of comfort. It is only a façade to give us both a taste of what we really want. But I can't pretend anymore. It is eating me alive from the inside out to deny myself the pleasure he can give to me. The reassurance that my entire body craves.

I have laid in my bed this night for a very long time. I have laid still, and quiet, listening to the wind outside, and knowing that I wouldn't sleep regardless. It is lightening, and loud claps are to be heard every few moments. I can't sleep whilst this is all still on my mind. It's the final night that I will toss, turn, and wonder. I can't wonder anymore.

I am small for my age, but I have to remember that he is tall for a man. Slender, and with a firm build. I can attest to his strength, because I know he works out, and I have seen him without a shirt. His muscles hold enough to lift two of me at once. The dreams will never cease.

Standing to my feet I step towards my vanity, staring into the mirror, in the darkness I can see my own reflection staring back at me. My hands lift to peel my gown off, letting it drop to the floor before I searched my closet, finding a much more revealing nighty, I slid it over my head, and returned to stand before the mirror. Staring into it I ran my fingers down my growing curves, feeling the way my skin dipped on either side of the nighty, and my cleavage showed in the mirror.

I didn't let him see me in this nighty, because I knew what it would do to him. I already see him stiffen in his trousers when I curl up beside him on the couch. He pretends it doesn't happen, and I pretend not to notice. He will shift until he thinks it is hidden, but I can always still see the outline of him. From what I have seen through fabric he is well-endowed, but he has always hidden from me, when he changes. It's no wonder.

I settle down on the seat of my vanity, going through the make-up I put on whenever we have dinner parties, or we head out to other kinds. It takes little effort on my part to layer on the various coats of my make-up. He always stares at me much more closely when I doll myself up. I pretend as though I don't wish to leave the house unless I have my make-up on, but the truth is I want his attention, and he can never tear his eyes away when I have prettied myself.

The last piece of the puzzle fit into place as I traced my lips with red lipstick, seeing how it made my full lips pop against my much paler complexion. I was ready now.

Sliding from my vanity seat I pulled open the door to my room, eyes scavenging the hallway for a few moments. I can still hear the loud cracks of thunder from the toiling storm outside, but it's the furthest thing from my mind. I am driven by the need for comfort, and touch, but also curiosity. I've never been touched before, not even kissed. I have watched him however.

He has drawn both men, and women between his sheets over the years. He has never dated, but I know the reasoning behind that. His meaningless strings of one-night stands need to come to an end. I don't want him to fight off the pieces of him that hunger for me. I know his need is driven deep inside of him, and he uses those meaningless bodies to destroy what he feels for me. I know it hasn't worked; it will never work.

Sliding my hand down I turn the nob to his bedroom, before I slide in. I am undetected over the storm, but that wasn't my intention. I close the door quietly, and cross the room in a few strides. Once I near I see him shift, and realize he hasn't slept either. His shirt, and boxers all that were present on his form, and with my form-fitting nighty I am in far less than he is.

He shifts as though expecting me to slide beneath the covers next to him ( like I usually do when I have a 'nightmare' ) but tonight I won't be sleeping just yet. I haven't had any nightmares; just a realization.

Moving to climb atop the sheets I slide beneath them with ease, before I shift until my warmth meets his. There is a low noise made in his throat, nearly undetectable over the storm, but I feel it vibrate against my ear, as my ear presses to his chest for a moment. Just a moment. With one swift movement I hitch my leg up, and over his abdomen, before I hoist my entire body up, and hover over him. Staring delicately down at him, his eyes meet mine for the first time tonight.

"Manda…are you…wearing, make-up?" His thumb reaches up to try, to wipe off some of my lipstick, but I reach up, and swat his hand away.

He wasn't expecting my swat, and his arm falls back to the bed, his eyebrows pull into a tight line. His breathing has hitched in his throat, and I know that he knows what I am doing. The realization hits him like a ton of bricks, and all at once I see his eyes shift away. Guilt, mixed with shame are clearly struggling for dominance inside of his body. Both just as strong as the other.

"Don't look away, from me, Uncle Nolan…" It was the name I have used for him since he took me into his home, one of endearment, but also of habit. We aren't tied by blood, but this man has raised me, we might as well be. He has given me everything that I could possibly need, and kept me from juvenile detention. He has effectively saved my life, and I owe him. I owe him everything.

"Get off." Was all he offered in exchange, still refusing to look me in the eyes, and we both knew he could have thrown me off if he had desired it, but the proof of his true desire is beginning to poke me through my panties from where I straddle his waist. I know he doesn't mean it. He doesn't want me to move, but the shame of what comes if I don't is what will eat him from the inside out. I know it.

I don't dignify those words of avoidance with a verbal response, instead I dip my head down to meet my bright red lips to his. It ignites a spark inside of me; one I have never before known in my lifetime to touch our lips together. He lets out a slight whimper from the rear of his throat, and I know that he can't help it; what I have just forced him to feel. It was already there, lingering untouched beneath the surface, but it needed to be awakened. I needed to awaken it.

As I pulled back his lips were red from my lipstick, smeared with the proof of what had just transpired, but that was to be the first ( not last ) mark that I will leave upon him by the time I am through. He deserves better than what he has. I know how he aches for me, his touches have grown so needy now that I am resembling that of a nearly developed teenager. He can't help his hands; they wander when I am close. Never in inappropriate places, but always leaving me wishing they had been.

"Manda, I can't…We can't." He desperately managed to whisper, his lips trembling, because he aches to have mine pressed back to his.

"I'm not a little girl anymore. And I owe you so much, Uncle Nolan…so very much." I whispered into the hollow of his ear, letting my heated breath tickle the space without remorse. I would make him cave for me, and I would give him what he craved. I would take it from his skin, drive it out of his form, and by the end of tonight I would belong to no one else. I was determined to drown out the noise in the back of my mind. The pieces of me that claimed that all of this need was wrong.

"You owe me, nothing. Manda…" He took in breath with a harsh stagger as I slid my hand down the expanse of his chest, letting the digits linger where the space over his heart was. "Christ…you are fourteen. I am old enough to be your father…" He was gripping at straws trying desperately to dissuade me, but he knows that he can't. Not when I have my mind made up.

I am like my father in that way. Stubborn.

"You ache, Nolan. Don't lie to me, I know you ache." I whispered into his ear, and he shuddered again as more caresses were given to him by my wandering hand. I lingered the digits just above the waistband of his boxers, my hand lingering just beneath the hem of his shirt by this point. My thumb flicking back and forth against the warm skin I found just above his boxer waistband.

"I know how you have to relieve yourself in the bathroom after I cuddle with you on the couch, and I know you use every boy, and girl out there to try and get rid of the image of me from your mind, but you can't, can you? It doesn't work, because you need me. You want me, Uncle Nolan." I breathed hotly into his ear, more shudders, and without my even touching it, I felt his prick twinge under the fabric of his boxers. Running my thumb over the swell in the fabric I felt a warm dab of pre-cum had wet the material.

"Manda, please. I can't have you, I promised to protect you, to raise you…" He pleaded.

"Don't you see? You will be protecting me. I'm a virgin, and I want you to be my first. I want you to be my only. Claim me, Uncle Nolan. Just don't push me away, let me have this; have you." I slid my thumb back and forth over the fabric, letting his prick twitch, and throb beneath the fabric, feeling more warm wetness making a patch against his boxers.

He was losing out on his ability to hold me off. To fight for what his conscience told him was wrong, and I knew from the way he looked up at me, that he was going to lose. I leaned back down, until my lips were touching his, and he kissed me back this time. Harder, much rougher than I imagined he would be, but it felt good. I knew that I had fought my way beneath the surface of his skin, and I was determined to live there now. He is my home, and he is all I will ever know.

Whether he consciously made me this way, or not, it is who I am. By shielding me from the world, and keeping me in this place I have really only known him since I was ripped from my father. I have known his bed, and his touch; even his scent. He has made me his whether he knows it, or not. We belong to each other.

"Make love to me." I breathed out, and received a low moan in the rear of his throat, knowing I had unleashed a piece of him that wanted me desperately. He slid his arms around me, and stole rougher kisses from the plump swell of my lips. I could taste my lip stick as it smeared both my lips, and his own. But he didn't seem to notice, his hands were roaming freely groping me through the flimsy gown that covered my decency.

I know just how desperately he has been wanting to touch me, it wasn't a secret, but neither of us had ever said the words out loud. Here he was with his hands sliding down beneath the hem of my nighty, pushing it up until it was well past my thighs, showing off my pink lacy underwear, letting him see the swell of my mound. I could feel a radiant heat building between my thighs, and I knew he could sense it too, because he pulled his lips back from mine. With heavy breathing he looked into my eyes, before he slid his hand beneath the brim of my panties, dipping his thumb between my lower lips, deftly gliding the thick digit back and forth against the swollen bud of my clit. I splayed my legs for him, letting him have full access, and I hadn't known what I was in for. Not from his touch alone.

I let out a moan, and then a whimper which only fueled his touch, his eyes filling with lust before he sloppily kissed my lips, and then the line of my neck. Tasting, and caressing every inch of my untarnished skin that he could. My head spinning profusely, whilst my breath became lost to me. How was it possible to have these kinds of sensations from touch alone?

I can't lie, and say that I have never experimented with my own body because I have. I have laid across my bed sheets, and closed my eyes. I have slid my hand beneath my panties, and circled my clit until it throbbed. Imagined Nolan between my thighs, imagined him touching me, and pushing himself into my virginal entrance. I had imagined all of it, before, but I had never achieved what he was, with touch alone. I had witnessed nothing of this nature prior to this moment.

"U-Uncle…." I gasped as I remained speechless with pleasure, my cheeks burning a bright shade, whilst my lips parted to let air escape from my desperate lungs. I was close to the edge, and he was driving me recklessly towards it. I would fall over, and this wasn't how I wanted my first release to play out. Lowering my hand I stilled his wrist, and I could see the lust wear off for an instant in his eyes as he came to the realization that he had given in.

"You have to go back to your room, Manda." His voice tried for harsh when all else had failed, but as I gathered my hazy mind I finally knew what I had to do. How I would have to pull him back to me, and have him between my thighs.

"I'm not Amanada. Not tonight." I finally breathed out as I moved to coil my arms around his neck, leaning up to steal a heated kiss from his lips. He was dazed once more, by the passion I gave him. "Tonight, I am Emily…Tonight I am yours."

I was desperate to divide his mind, and confuse his senses, giving him an out. He could have me this way, and he didn't have to look me in the eyes, and whisper the name of a little girl that lost her father. Tonight I was who I wanted to be, and I was going to be what he longed for.

"Manda I don-"

"Emily." I corrected, and slid my hand down between his thighs, palming him through the fabric of his boxers, feeling the throbbing of his length, and hearing the moans that emitted from his lips as I broke whatever semblance of willpower that remained to him.

"Em…" He managed to whisper, and I smiled lightly, as I helped him guide my nighty from my form, letting the fabric be discarded onto his bedroom floor. I could see his eyes taking in my form. His fingers reaching up to cup my still developing breasts, rubbing his thumbs against each nipple in turn, before he lowered his lips to one, and then the other, sucking them both engorged to his satisfaction, before he moved to slide my panties down my thighs.

"I'm yours. Just yours." I whispered into the hollow of his ear, reaching to discard his shirt, leaving only his boxers on. He wasted no time in discarding his boxers as he peeled them down his hips, and threw them to the ground. His lips touched to mine, and I tilted my head to the side, tasting him as I faded into his form, realizing that this was finally going to happen, that there would be no more wistful stares back, and forth. I know that there will never be a moment again when I have to worry about losing him to another's touch. I had him as my own.

"I shouldn't." He managed to breathe against my lips, but I was already hoisting my hips up, and entwining my legs around his waist. I was fit trimly against him, with baited breath as I lowered my hand between our bodies, gripping his length I guided it towards my entrance, pressing his thick phallus against my virginal entrance, tilting slightly so he only needed to slide his hips forward to be inside of me.

"Do you want me?" I breathed heavily against his lips, and it was received with a whimper in return.

"You know I do…but—"

"Please." I pleaded with him, and with one swift ( but gentle ) movement he was sliding inside of me. Stretching my hymen, tearing it, and causing me to bleed, but I held my breath. I knew that it would hurt the first time, and I was grateful that I had him to hold me, and he did. He whispered into my ear soft, soothing little things as he kissed up the line of my neck, comforting me, but also letting out little curse words as well. It was taking everything inside of him to hold back to let me adjust.

I wasn't used to having something so thick, and hard inside of me. I had begged for it however, and this was for him. He had been so kind, and patient. Never hurting me, or forcing himself between my thighs, even though I knew he wanted to. Now here we were, wrapped around each other, and falling apart at the seams. After I adjusted I started to crave him inside of me, filling me to the hilt. As he pulled out, and pushed back in it sent jolts of pleasure throughout the whole of my form.

"I…won't be able to stop, once I've started. I have ached for so long, Em." He breathed hotly into my ear, and I whimpered.

"I know you have." I soothed, "Don't hold back." I gripped onto him tightly as I granted him permission, and he didn't. His hips began to jolt heavily, pounding into my center with heavy thrusts, and I let little moans, and whimpers escape with every slam back inside of me. I finally understood the extent to which he had yearned for me. I knew it had been deep, and intense, but I had had no idea just how much he had held back. He was a rough lover, his kisses were wild, and untamed, whilst his thrusts drove him so deep inside of me, that I swore he hit the back of me, each time he slammed back in.

I was losing myself to sensations, finding that I was actually aroused by the friction he was creating, but also by the rough manner he was taking me in. He was making me cry out for him, and I wasn't able to hold back the cries that fell from my lips. I was practically screaming, as I moved to drag my nails down his back. But he didn't stop, and I didn't want him to.

He was getting closer because I could hear him grunting, and the panting was worsening. His moans were now so loud he couldn't help himself, and I knew he was going to cum for me. What I wasn't expecting was for his hand to travel from my hip to between my thighs, as he began to rub his thumb back between my now thoroughly swollen lower lips, to seek out the nub at the top of my center, rubbing fast, and ruthless circles around it, and it drew me right back to the edge I had been on with his last touches, only this time I didn't drive his hand away.

He came undone first; years of pent up frustrations clearly having built into his system, and with a final thrust he let out a loud grunt, and pressed his lips firmly down to mine, stealing a kiss whilst biting at my lips, and his warm seed began to pool inside of me. I could feel it, hot, and thick as he filled me with it, shamefully. I could see the blush that tinged his cheeks, and as I too came undone against his thumb I felt my nub twitching against the pad of his digit, coating his prick in wetness.

Those eyes of his did hold shame however. And when he pulled back from the firm kiss, he saw what he had done. It was like a new dynamic had planted itself between us, and there was always going to be this other side now. A darker side that couldn't be taken back, or pushed forward, simply hovering. I felt it in his demeanor, as he took note of the various bites he had left on the skin of my neck, and my lips were swollen, as were his, and my lipstick was still smeared all across his lips.

"Manda…" And just like that the spell that hovered over us faded as the realization fully seemed to sink in to the whole of his being. Sliding his spent prick from between my folds he stared down at my ripe, teenage form, taking in the sight of my nudity for a moment before his eyes turned away.

"Don't. I wanted this, Uncle Nolan." I said the words, but he only flinched at the term that had once been endearing.

"You realize what we've done? I've hurt you." He breathed out, and I looked down between my thighs. He wasn't wrong about the pain, now that he had finished, and the hormones were starting to dwindle there was a great deal of pain that I felt down there. I reached between my legs, and realized he had torn me slightly from stretching me. I worried at my lip with my teeth, trying to think of something I could say to make him stop feeling so guilty.

"It's not as bad as it looks. Lay down with me, it will be better in the morning." I reasoned, tugging on his arm, trying to force him to comply, and after a moment I thought he would pull away, but he didn't. Instead he obliged me, and laid beside me. But he didn't say a word in response, not to soothe me, or argue with me. He was wholly silent on all fronts.

I slid my hand into his linking our fingers, and with a shifty breath; I fell to sleep.

There was plenty of arguments; from both sides. I could tell he was truly sickened by what he had done. He felt as though he had fallen into something sinful, and that I was far too young to love him. I was young, but I do know what I want. It was a rough pattern that I managed to argue myself into. Each night I would sneak into his bedroom, and after a round of argument from his lips he would take what he needed from between my thighs. Settling himself shamefully inside of me, before taking the friction, and pleasure that he craved.

I didn't have to do much coaxing, because now that he had had me once, he didn't want to go back to what it had been before ( even though his mouth told a different story than his body ) and I would slide my hand against the swell in his boxers, forcing him to erection before he would lose complete control, and give in to his whims. He always felt such shame after. He would rut into me like a dog, and take his pleasure, giving me my own, but when the morning sun rose he couldn't look me in the eyes.

He wasn't what he had once been, but that no longer mattered to me. I know what he wanted; needed, and I know that I want, and need the same thing. I have grown addicted to having him filling me at night, and he has grown just as addicted to having me. I can't go back to the way things were. So at night he will settle in, and whisper the name I chose into my ear. Every night in his bedroom the only name he can bear to call me in bed bounces from the walls, sometimes he is so needy I fear he will break the bed.

He bruises my thighs, but I have learned to love that feeling. I wear the marks he gives me with his teeth, with pride, and as time goes on, he seems less, and less able to hold out against his urges. Sometimes taking me in the middle of the day as well. We will be settled on the couch, and then all at once he will whisper into my ear that he needs Emily. And I know instantly what he means, and spread my legs, letting him have me.

Sometimes the needs arise so quickly that he can't even strip us of our clothes before it happens. He will hastily unzip his jeans, and peel my panties to the side before forcing himself inside of me. He even buries his face in my neck, biting the skin in order to hide his shame from me, but I see it. I feel it. I know what having me means to him, how he needs his Emily, even more than he ever needed his Amanda. Perhaps I will change my name legally someday, then that last ounce of shame that lives inside of him won't have to anymore.