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As you lie tangled together in his bed, you can’t help but think just how perfect this had turned out. Last night when he invited you home with him you hadn’t imagined feeling anything quite like this. And yet, here you are, the morning after a night with Bo Burnham, and you can’t stop yourself from smiling.
“What are you thinking about?” He asks softly, stirring your thoughts.
“How crazy this is.”
“Oh?”
You nod. “Meeting you so abruptly.”
“Well I don’t usually-“ he flicks his hand awkwardly. “You know.”
“Mmm.” You’re not sure if you believe him entirely. “Why me?”
He thinks on this for a long moment, undoubtedly reliving the moments leading up to last night.
“I felt like a stranger to you. And I liked that feeling.” He muses, fingers drawing circles on your forearm. “Like you’ve never known me. Like before that moment I never mattered to you.”
The sentiment is heavy and while sweet, you can’t deny- “Well if I’m being honest… I did…see you perform once.” You admit carefully. “Not really on purpose, but still. For what it’s worth.”
Bo turns to look at you, a crinkle of worry at his brow. “Oh?”
“Mm. You performed near NYU my senior year.”
He chews his lip, thinking this over and searching his memory. “That had to be around 2011 or so”
You nod.
Bo cringes at the confirmation and you feel a shiver run through him. “That… feels like a hundred years ago. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“I wrote some offensive and vulgar shit back then.” He mumbles, a sadness in his tone. “I hate that you’ve seen me like that.”
“You were young-“ You offer.
“That’s not really an excuse though, right? I don’t deserve to be let of the hook for some racist bullshit I misguidedly espoused every night to thousands of people.”
You’ve hit a nerve somewhere, made a critical error. This conversation was spiraling and fast. He sits up and his head falls to his hands. You reach for him but he curls away from your touch. “Bo–”
“I just wish things were different. That I wasn’t such a fucking asshole.”
“Things ARE different. YOU are different now.” You whisper.
Bo turns to look at you over his shoulder, a sudden cruelty to his expression. “Don’t give me that shit. You don’t even know me.” The bite in his tone and darkness to his eyes makes you shiver and you feel… ashamed. “Don’t you dare pretend like you do.”
Hurt by the sudden aggression in his tone, you withdraw, pulling the sheet up over your chest.
You sit in silence for what feels like forever and all you can think is how quickly this went downhill. This wasn’t how this morning was supposed to go. Not after how incredible last night had been.
“I should go.” You whisper, your voice breaking just slightly with swallowed emotion.
Bo slides out of bed, grabbing his boxers off the floor. “Yeah, I guess you should.”
Your chest aches with regret. You hate this, your time together ending so bitterly. “I’m sorry.” You whisper and turn to fish your own clothes from the rug.
You feel him watch you as you cross the room. “Are you actually crying right now?”
You ignore him, eager to leave and escape this torment you suddenly find yourself in. You’re fighting so hard against the hot tears that pool in your eyes.
“Fuck.” Bo sighs and steps to block the doorway. “Just- Just…stop for a minute okay.” It’s not a question but more of an order.
Your eyes meet his and you shiver just slightly.
“Look I don’t mean to be such a dick. I just...” he trails off and Bo pulls at his hair, a nervous tick born from frustration. The reply and the brush off upsets you and you’re not even entirely sure why.
You don’t want to hurt him or pour gas on the fire; and yet… “Being a dick seems pretty par for the course for you- but what do I know, right?” You reply bitterly, staring at the floor.
His expression hardens. He takes your clothes from your hands and throws them aside. Roughly and without real warning, Bo grabs your arm and presses you against the doorframe. His other hand grips your chin to meet his gaze. As his body envelopes yours, towering over you, you feel your pulse quicken in a fight or flight response.
“Do you always have such a smart fuckin’ mouth?”
You’re even more annoyed now. “Do you always have such a dumb one?” You scoff, returning his fiery glare.
His kiss is aggressive then, your tongues fighting against each other between barred teeth.
When his hips flex into yours, you can feel his erection stab at your lower belly, suddenly eager for attention.
“I’m sorry.” He rasps, breath hot as your fingers thread through his hair, tugging. “I’m really fucking sorry. I’m sorry-”
“Are you just apologizing…” Your words come as pant. “-So you can get your dick wet again?”
The situation has turned absolutely desperate. You’re losing your control, you so furiously want him to throw you to the ground and fuck you until you’re broken into a million pieces. And you’re pretty sure he knows it.
Bo bites your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood and the sound that escapes your mouth is inhumane. His massive hands grip at your legs and he lifts you against the door frame. Your feet cross behind his back.
And suddenly, with one carefully timed thrust, Bo is inside all over again. You cry out in shock. “Fuck!”
The pace is frantic and your fingers dig angry red scratches into his back, wanting to mar him as yours. You feel like you’re going to explode, it hurts in a way you never want to end.
“Say my name.” He hisses against your ear in between grunts.
You refuse.
“Say it.”
Nothing.
“Say it or I swear to Christ I’m gonna stop fucking you.”
“No… Don’t-“ You beg shamelessly, blinking away the stars that dance across your vision.
“Then fucking say it.”
You gasp again, your lips reluctantly forming around his name. “Oh, god, Bo please. Please don’t… stop… Bo…” You mewl desperately, reduced to a quivering mess.
You feel pain erupt between your legs as he somehow pushes deeper and harder into you in the most delicious way. You’re only mildly aware of the door jam slicing at your lower back and you don’t even care, you could die like this, happy, ravaged, drenched in his sweat.