Bitten

The first clue I had that perhaps my attaction to Hal was not entirely of the platonic sort was when he mentioned his fangs.

I have a very sensitive neck, and sensitive ears as well.  Jay has made me squirm and shriek just by coming near them, and a breath across the right patch of skin raises goosebumps down the entire corresponding side of my body, something which Jay finds endlessly entertaining.  I'm rather protective of these areas, as goosebumps are not my idea of fun very often.

Perhaps that's why I like to be bitten - having my ears gently gnawed, or my neck tenderly nibbled - or not so tenderly - is quite arousing for me.  Having other parts bitten is enjoyable as well, but the sensitivity of the skin on my neck and ears adds something to the deal.  Having my neck bitten makes my eyes roll back in my head as my entire body shudders in pleasure, my breath coming hot and heavy.

When I first met Hal, we immediately clicked.  You know how it is with some people, where you know immediately upon meeting them that they are absolutely supposed to be a part of your life and there was a part of you just waiting for them to show up?  That kind of click.  If it weren't for the circumstances under which I met him, which prohibit our having anything other than a professional relationship right now, he'd immediately have taken his place as one of my best friends ever.  He'd be the kind of friend to spend the night at the bar with me, take in a Sox game, just hang out and play video games, and have geeky, intense, ridiculous conversations with late at night.  He would be, as I told him, one of "the posse".

We discovered early on that we're geeky in so many similar ways, although he has an unfortunate preference for Spider-Man rather than Batman.  We discussed games, and more comics, etc. and so on and were talking more about our personal lives when he mentioned the pair of fangs he owns.

My fevered little brain immediately granted me the image and sensation of him using those fangs on my neck.

Up until that moment, I would have sworn - in fact, did, to Vinnie - that everything was strictly platonic.  I was mostly kidding myself, I think; most of our conversations consisted of the sort of flirting one sees in the "I make fun of you because I like you" stage, although I really was somewhat convinced that it didn't mean anything other than two friends good-naturedly ragging on each other.  Clearly, my body and mind had other ideas, as they have frequently told me since.