Fiction

I kiss your neck, drunkenly, sloppily; it’s a wet kiss and I suck a little bit as I feel your breath hitch against my lips. I plant open-mouthed kisses around your neck, and you let me, at first, until I reach your clavicle and give it a small lick. You push me away, softly, slowly, halfheartedly; and whisper my name as a warning.

I already know I’ve won.

I hum absentmindedly and focus on the red spots I’ve made with my lips. I trace them with the fingers of one hand, while my other one undoes the buttons of your polo shirt. You take my hand, the one drawing circles on your skin, and say my name again.

It sounds so pretty on your lips, love, or is that the alcohol?

I hum again, and entwine my fingers with yours as your face changes from shock to concern. I move closer and kiss your cheek, softly this time, and move down to that jaw I seem to love so much. I plant butterfly kisses along your jaw line and you sigh my name.

I’ve won, completely.

I smile against the spot under your ear and give it a soft lick. I suck that spot and feel you give in, finally. You turn your face towards me, and your lips find mine. You teach me how to kiss and how to be kissed properly; our tongues dancing awkwardly at first, trying to get to know each others’ tastes. I fight for dominance, of course, even if I don’t know what it is I am doing. I can feel you smile through our kiss; I amuse you. Your hands tangle in my hair suddenly, and you hold me in place as you teach me the pace, the taste, the feel of being thoroughly kissed by you, and the tables are turned.

I’m grasping at straws and trying to hold on to my drunken courage, but you’re scaring me with the way your lips taste. I pull away and you let me. We stare at each other’s eyes for a few seconds, your hands still in my hair, our chests heaving like we’ve just ran a marathon; and my drunken fog has lifted, while your eyes have turned molten and your lips so pink from me nipping at them.

You say my name in a whisper, in awe and surprise and I feel like you’ve seen me, truly, for the first time. I gulp, I was wrong. I’ve lost this conquest to you and your kiss, and your soft way of saying my name. This is bad. This is wrong. This is… my fault. But I don’t care anymore, so I come closer again, and latch onto your neck as I feel you groan while I lick the side of it. Your hands are on my hips this time, and my hand is inside your shirt while the other is on your bicep. I kiss you like a famished vampire, and you let me, again. 

You push me away and this time it’s you kissing me in the same spot and it’s so glorious I moan your name, and you smile against my neck. You push me down onto the sand, and I let you, a dazed smile on my face as your shirt lands beside me and my hands explore every inch of your body. You’re not done yet, still kissing down my chest and your hand slipping underneath my bathing suit top.

I bite my lip, but you slow down. Your kisses getting softer, more lingering, and I already know your lust-filled haze has lifted. You look up and your eyes meet mine. I can blame the alcohol, you have nothing to blame but your self-control, and I see you realize that. I smile at you reassuringly, trying to tell you I know what I got myself into without having to use words. But you stand and wordlessly put your shirt on, then sit beside me. I prop myself up on my elbows and look at the stars. 

We sit like that in silence for a few minutes, but it feels like eternity and an hour, trying to get our bearings. We sit like that until our friends find us, their drunken laughter reaching us before they do, and tell us it’s time to go. You need to  drive us home.

~Fin~

Don't

Do not let me love you.

I will love you so completely and thoroughly,

You will tire of me.

Do not let me hold your hand,

I will never let it go,

You will resent my weakness.

Do not let me in,

Do not show me your tattered edges,

Do not let me see your dented ego,

Do not let me touch your beautiful patchwork heart.

I will love it all,

I will not change a thing.

I will break myself into pieces just to fit your mold.

Do not let me start caring.

Do not let me hug you when the night is cold.

Do not make me laugh.

I will feel my heart beating in my chest,

You will become my life source,

My reason, my being.

You will hate me for it.

Do not let me love you.

I will love you hard, and soft, and in between.

I will love you like the sun does the moon,

And the ocean does the shore, no matter how hard it is pushed away.

I will not stop,

I cannot.

I will love you,

And you will hate me for it.

Set Me Free

I feel smothered.

I need my freedom back. I need a day, or two, or three... maybe even a month, of complete and unbridled freedom. I need anonymity, I need SPACE. I need... I need to breathe. I miss being able to breathe. I don't want this propriety that society has shoved in my face, I don't want this responsibility of having to be a model citizen. I want to LIVE. I want to be able to run through open fields and not fear judgement or ridicule, or prying, pitying eyes. I want to be ME.

I need to make decisions with no one watching, no one's approval pending like a guillotine over my head. I need to spread my wings, to fly, to feel, to sing, to BE. I need... I need many things, and want many things, and most of the time none of them really become mine. I am shallow, and superficial and selfish. I am twenty-two going on twenty-three and the universe inside me is beginning to spill out, and it's getting heavier to carry, but I'll be fine. I'm  always fine, even when I'm not; even when I am depressed beyond measure and refuse to eat, to talk, to exist, I am fine. I always am, and always will be.

I have this smile plastered on my face, and even when the edges begin to crack from the strain of keeping it up, it's still there. I will grin, and bear it, because I do not need your judgement, and I do not want your pity. You can take those and shove it up places on your person where the sun does not shine. 

I am the storm, I am the flame. I am strong, and I am unbreakable. I am the hero of this God-damned story and I do not need saving. I am woman; hear me roar.

It's the Feeling

You feel like home.

The kind of home where it's just you and me,

and I'm safe from everything.

You feel like fun.

The no alcohol,

let's go jump off that cliff and into the sea kind of fun.

The fun where we can go on adventures

or stay in bed,

and never be bored.

You feel like sunshine

in an eternal summer by the beach.

The kind of sunshine at seven in the morning,

when the heat does not scald you yet.

You feel like stars on a clear night,

nights when the wind is warm

and the constellations flicker above our heads.

Nights I'd like to spend watching the sky reflected in your eyes.

You feel like fresh air;

like a crisp mountain breeze,

like a calm lake side shrouded in trees

and all we'd do is sit on the grass and breathe everything in.

You feel like wonder and moonshine,

like reckless nights and drunken mornings,

like waking up to gray clouds and a light drizzle,

and warm pillow talk.

You feel like the world is at your fingertips,

and it's such a wonderful time to be alive.

You feel like everything I'd ever want and ever need.

You feel like a ball of light in my dimly lit world.

You feel like you,

and that's more than enough.