Better Than Burroughs

Marina

I ended up calling Emma to come along, mostly because Deaglan asked about a female companion for himself. After I was assured that he was not speaking of a one night stand, I agreed to call Emma. She did, after all, wonder about Callum’s Irish friends. She was thrilled to come with us and the two seem to be getting along.

The first destination of the night was a club. That was abandoned after ten minutes of Callum grimacing and Deaglan cursing Americans and their ridiculous pathetic excuses for music. I guess techno just isn’t their style. I didn’t mind, I’m not a fan either. Emma enjoys the stuff though and was upset to miss the dancing opportunity. The idea of another club angered the boys and we all ended up in a quiet restaurant having dinner. Well the dinner has mostly been had and now we’re just sitting around the table talking.

“How’s yer mum?” Callum asks Deaglan, setting his strawberry margarita down. He was originally going to order something I didn’t recognize, but I got him to go for a margarita so I could have a sip. The image of Callum with a strawberry margarita in hand is precious.

“Insane. She sends her love and a whole mess of other things I’ll have ta give you behin’ closed doors,” Deaglan winks.

Emma pushes her chair back from the table and stands. When we all look up at her, she says, “Bathroom.”

“Actually, me too,” Callum adds, standing, his hand brushing across my bare back as he walks away. His touch sends a chill down my spine and I love it. I’m quite glad I decided upon this shirt, which leaves my upper back bare to his touch. He seems to be taking advantage of it as often as possible without seeming too obvious.

“So when are you leaving?” I ask Deaglan. He leans forward, his elbows on the table and he smiles gently.

“Tomorrow actually.”

“Wow, that soon? You can’t stay any longer?” I ask, knowing that Callum will miss him and wondering if Callum knows yet.

He gives his head a shake and says, “An’ I’m hoping Callum will be with me.”

All I can do is say a feeble ‘Oh’ and stare. I knew that he’s been wanting to go back home and I’m all for it, but tomorrow? That soon?

“Look, you seem like a lovely bird, Marina, but he needs to go back and if you care for him as much as it appears, you need to let it happen,” Deaglan says and I get the impression that he’s trying to be soothing. He’s trying to let me down gently or something. He doesn’t really need too, but I appreciate his kindness.

“I understand. I think he needs to do it too. I just didn’t think it would be this sudden.”

“We’ve never been ones to plan,” he laughs, looking up as Callum appears at my side and sits back down.

“Miss anything?” he asks.

I glance at Deaglan who replies, “I was just gettin’ ta know yer lovely flatmate.”

Callum’s eyes narrow and he fixes Deaglan with a stare that has Deaglan laughing, “No worries mate, I only thought about movin’ in on her a few times.”

Callum’s trying hard not to smile and I can see him struggling. Looking at him, my entire body is aching at the thought of his leaving tomorrow. I don’t want him to but I know he needs to and I want him to do what he needs to do. Maybe he’ll ask me to go along; no chance in hell, but it’s a nice thought. I know that this is something I can’t help him with and my being there would probably just stress him out.

Suddenly my head is hit with a stab of pain and I bite back a curse. Knowing I don’t have anything with me to help me with the migraine, I don’t bother checking. My brain’s core is pulsating and I feel like squeezing my eyes shut and burying my face in Callum’s neck. That would only raise some eyebrows.

“Please excuse me, I need to see a man about a dog,” Deaglan says, standing from his chair and giving a little bow. “And also find that sexy lil red-head.”

“It’s from a bottle, mate,” Callum lets down gently, knowing that Emma’s natural hair color is not the bright red that it is tonight.

“I don’ give a dog’s bollocks.”

I watch Deaglan walk away and I begin to get the feeling that I’m being stared at. Turning my head, I’m right and Callum has fixed his green eyes upon me and he looks quite serious. Cocking my head, I stare back at him and wait for him to explain what this look of his is for.

“Are you alright, darlin’?” he asks, turning in his chair to face me. Concern is etched on his features and it’s such a beautiful look.

I automatically nod my head, years of ‘I’m fine’ taking hold of me. I inwardly curse at myself for lying to him but I did it before I even thought of it. It’s too normal for me. It’s all I’ve ever done.

“I don’ believe you and I don’t like to be lied to,” Callum warns, his voice is surprisingly harsh as he leans in closer and looks me in the eye. The thought of lying to him again doesn’t even enter my mind as I find myself telling him that I have a migraine.

“How often do you have ‘em?”

“Often enough,” I say, a little uncomfortable with talking about it. Talking about my health has always made me uncomfortable and I feel completely exposed here in this restaurant.

“Have you seen someone?” he asks, his hand coming up to cradle the side of my head. I lean into his hand and he smiles.

“I have.” I’ve seen a ridiculous amount of doctors for it and not one of them has ever done or said anything worthwhile. I stopped making appointments after a while and mom didn’t like that very much. Granted, mothers are supposed to care for their child’s well being, but she just never knows when enough is enough. She never knows when to quit. At some point, it stopped being me who she cared for. It became about winning some pathetic game that she created for herself. She refused to fail.

In the corner of my eye I see Emma on her way over to the table and Deaglan quickly intercepts her, leading her over to the bar. He looks over at us and gives me a look that says to have all the serious talk we want because he’s got Emma covered. I’m thankful that he did it but also there’s a part of me that wishes he didn’t so I could continue putting this off. I don’t want Callum to panic every time I get a head ache. I don’t want him to look at me in the way family members do and I don’t want him to feel sorry for me.

“Marin, I’m askin’ you to talk to me,” Callum says slowly and I look back at him, knowing what a huge thing this is for him. His brows are furrowed and he’s asking me to tell him everything and I want to. I tell him about the migraines and about the trouble I had growing up. I tell him about the time I passed out in the bathtub and my parents didn’t know until the running water spilled underneath the door. I tell him how my dad had to kick it in and pull my naked body out of the tub and how as a fourteen year old girl, I didn’t care about the fact that my face could have gone under, I only cared that my dad had seen me naked. He doesn’t say a word the entire time which just makes me babble more. I start telling him every little thing and once I start I just can’t shut up and it’s such a relief. I know how he must have felt when he started talking about his parents. I talk about the dizziness and the blackouts, the tunnel vision and about that one time I was only seeing in black and white. I merge into the doctors and the tests and my parents. I tell him how when I was little I used to drop my pills behind my dresser because I didn’t want to take them anymore.

“How often do these things happen now?” he asks when I begin to slow down.

“I have at least one migraine a day, most of the time they’re just average ones.” I can see the question on his face of why I haven’t mentioned them if they happen that often but I don’t even really think about them much. When I have them, it’s like any other normal thing. I just deal with it. I’m used to them. The really bad times are the only times that force me to take notice and sit in a dark room. Honestly though, lately I’ve had it pretty good. I haven’t had any major migraines and I only get dizzy sometimes in the mornings after I wake up. I don’t want to question why but I assume that it’s because I’ve been more relaxed in general. I’m happier now and maybe that has something to do with it. Lack of stress? If I allow myself to dwell, they only get worse.

“Promise me that you will tell me when you hurt,” he says and it’s not a question, it’s more of a demand but said so gently that it’s vulnerable and optimistic.

“I promise.” I want to do as he asks and I promise that I will, but I don’t know if I can. It’s not in my nature to mention that stuff. Growing up, I always had this feeling that no one really cared. Everyone had a certain way of responding to it and it was never to my liking. Some people would ask but wouldn’t care for an answer, they just asked because it was the polite thing to do. Some people would care way too much about the answer and it screamed fake. My mom always made me feel guilty for the bills and my dad never did anything much in the way of parenting, instead leaving it up to my mom who didn’t know what to do with a kid who cried at night because her head hurt. Just thinking about it all is enough to give me a headache. I can’t help but wish that I had grown up as Callum did. Sure, he lost his parents, but the way he describes his childhood is the closest thing to perfection that I have ever heard. He’s lucky.

“Can we go?” I ask and he immediately nods his head, standing up and holding his hand out for me to take.

Later That Night

After Callum rounded Deaglan and Emma up, we ended up in the store. We were planning on going all the way upstairs, but we just never made it. Deaglan put on some music, Electric Six, and we’re all just sitting around. I’ve been trying not to think about my head or the fact that Callum may be leaving tomorrow, I don’t want to start acting funny. I may get sad and start crying or something and that really won’t help anything. Emma got completely drunk during dinner, she’s the only one. I hadn’t been paying attention to how much she was drinking and when Deaglan led her away to give Callum and I a chance to talk, they ended up at the bar where Deaglan continued to drink absolutely nothing alcoholic and Emma drank it all. Callum had barely drunk anything, something Em is very upset about. She apparently really did want to see him drunk.

“You know that movie? The one with the cute dog?” Em asks, sitting on top of the counter, her feet tapping against one another.

“I think that may just explain almost every light-hearted fluff film ever made my lovely little lush,” Deaglan says, rearranging Callum’s bookshelf reserved for his own recommendations. I smile and have no idea what movie she’s talking about but I’m sure in a few seconds she’ll continue. Callum seems to be the only one who’s not really having a whole lot of fun. Sitting on the third step of the staircase, he looks to be deep in thought over something. He’s not really with us.

“No, it has whatshisname in it. That Matrix guy.”

“Sweet November?” I ask, it being the only movie with that Matrix guy and a cute dog that comes to mind.

“Yes!” she points at me with a huge smile on her face.

“What about it?” I ask with a laugh.

“It was on TV last night and I watched it. He’s sooo hot.” Emma trails off about Keanu Reeves’ appearance and I slowly stop paying attention. I walk over to Callum and sit down beside him on the step. I like that there’s not a whole lot of room because I can sit right up against him. I don’t say anything, but rest my head on his shoulder. I just want him to realize that he’s still here. I smile when he takes my hand and squeezes it in between his.

“He’s completely redoing your shelf. You do realize that don’t you?” I ask, looking over at Deaglan who’s still pulling books down and putting new books up.

“He can have it. I’ll make a new one,” he mutters.

From atop the counter, Emma rambles, “Maybe I should do that. Since I’m destined to never be in a relationship. I should just put a different guy up every month. Would that make me a whore?”

I watch Deaglan walk over to her and kiss her cheek and say, “It just possibly might.”

“Spud! I forgot ta tell ya somethin’,” Deaglan shouts, moving away from Em and walking over to stand in front of us.

He continues to tap Callum on the head until Callum finally looks up, swatting Deaglan’s hand away. It would appear hostile if it weren’t for the smile on his face. “Sod off you fuckin’ cunt.”

“Love ya too. I met these tiny old American breathers in Dublin. They fuckin’ knew James Dean. The old man owned some diner around here that the guy used to bang on some bongo’s in.”

“Get their autograph?” Callum smirks.

“Not nice to have a laugh at your mate’s expense ya bastard and yes, I did.”

Callum bursts out into a fit of laughter and it makes me start laughing, being so close to him. I can hear Emma start to giggle and I doubt she even knows why. The laughing should make my head hurt but I’m slowly shutting it out. Besides, the second we walked in the store, Callum produced Advil magically out of thin air. Actually, I think it was from under the counter but who knows, maybe he’s a magician on the side. I took six, despite my aversion to medication and two more than the recommended dose but I’ve always had a high tolerance for medicine so the recommended doses have never worked. I’m always careful about that though because I know that people accidentally overdose on that stuff all the time and I don’t want that to happen. What an embarrassing way to die. An accidental Advil overdose.

“Did they tell you things?” I ask, initiating myself in the conversation. I’m pretty fond of James Dean and I’m actually jealous of Deaglan for meeting people who knew him. I would be harassing them with questions and if he got their autographs, I’m sure he did.

“Unless this tosser gives me an apology, I’m not sayin’ a fuckin’ word,” Deaglan insists, a hand on a hip causing him to look very androgynous. Almost David Bowie like.

I nudge Callum’s shoulder and he shakes his head adamantly. I nudge him again and he sighs, muttering, “Bloody women.”

Standing up, he grabs Deaglan and gives him a huge kiss on the forehead, his hands framing Deaglan’s face, “I’m ever so sorry, darling, could ye find it in your heart of hearts ta forgive me?” Deaglan laughs and tries to push Callum away but Callum just latches on and makes a feeble attempt to hold Deaglan tight, “Danger! Danger! High voltage! When we touch, when we kiss, when we touch!”

Callum

Sitting here being able to look down at Marin freely, I’m so damn content that if I had the choice of staying like this forever or licking Nick Cave’s cheek, I’d most undoubtedly choose this. And Lord knows I would lick that man’s cheek in a bloody heartbeat. Who the fuck wouldn’t? A eunuch…possibly.

Spread across the floor in front of me, laying on her stomach looking through the photos Deaglan brought over, I’m not as uncomfortable with it all as I thought I would be. She’s having so much fun and she’s so beautiful and soft. Her eyes are open wide in every sense and she looks to be enjoying these photos as if she was there to experience them firsthand. I find myself watching her more than the images. I think about joining her on the floor but I don’t. While it would be nice, I like this view of her. Having changed into her sleeping clothes, her shirt is pushed up a bit from constantly sliding back to look at me when she shows me a photo. Her skin is inviting and pale, strips of her waist and sides bare. I don’t know if the fact that she chose to wear pajama pants and not one of those tiny pair of shorts she has is a blessing or a fucking drawback. Granted, Deck is upstairs in my bedroom, having finally decided to retire for the night, but I would have no qualms in fucking her senseless. I don’t give a bloody fuck who’s in the flat. I know she would, however, and in all honesty, I’m not ready. I’m not used to being the one who’s not ready. It gives me a head ache. The thought of it is making me hard and I feel like sighing at the insistence of my body. I’m used to it, especially around her. I don’t give a toss if she notices.

“What’s going on in this one?” she asks with a slight laugh, rolling over and sitting up to show me. Looking down at the photo in her hand, I inwardly groan. Deaglan, what a fucking wanker. I’ve forever been captured in time standing proudly with a cape on and hands on my hips.

“I was six. Give me a soddin’ break!”

“Super hero stage? Batman? Superman?” she asks with a smirk.

“Both gits.” I refuse to tell her that I don’t think I had a purpose when I was wearing the cape. I actually thought it would help me fly. I wasn’t one for super heroes. I couldn’t buy into that shite. I can appreciate them now, to a certain extent, but I was never able to as a tot.

“Hey! I like Batman thank you very much and he is not a git,” she defends haughtily.

“And why exactly do you like Batman?” I ask, remembered her lovely bottom in a particular pair of panties. I’ll swear my fucking allegiance to all things Batman if she’ll walk around a bit in the flat while wearing them.

“Because he’s not a super hero. I mean, he is, but he doesn’t have powers or anything. He’s just an ordinary guy. I think he’s the most human of them all. He’s dark and it always seems like at any moment he’ll possibly just snap from the pressure of his own demons. He has his problems but he makes it work. Besides, as long as we get awesome Batman’s like Michael Keaton and Christian Bale, I’m happy,” she ends with flippantly, lightening the mood. The way she was looking at me throughout that speech, I do have the feeling that she was trying to compare me with Batman. I don’t know if that should please me or not. No matter. I wouldn’t wear that fucking thing on my head no matter how much they tried to pay me.

I think about mocking her passion for the comic hero but I don’t say anything and watch her go back to the pictures. I lazily watch her flip through each one and try not to look at any one of them for too long. I’m going home, I can remember that all first hand. I don’t need the bleedin’ photos right now. Fucking hell, I haven’t even told her. Christ I don’t want to either. I don’t want to leave her. Not now. But if I don’t do this, I know nothing will ever change. I can’t really believe that I’m going to try and do what I have planned, but it should have been done a long time ago and fuck mum’s family for not allowing it.

“So Deaglan mentioned that he’s leaving tomorrow,” Marin says and I’m immediately suspicious. What else did he fuckin’ tell her? It’s an obvious struggle to keep her voice devoid of hints when she comments on how soon it is and I know that she knows. Deck told her. Well it saves me from having to do it but the sadistic side of me wanted to see her reaction when she found out.

“And you’re going with him,” she adds calmly. I don’t say anything and she waits a tick before turning around to sit back up. She stares up at me from my position on the couch, she’s impossibly close me and if I leaned down, I could touch her in any way I wanted. She wouldn’t resist. The flat is quiet and I wonder why music isn’t playing until I recall that I nixed the idea earlier so as not to keep Deck awake. Actually, the truth of it is that I didn’t want to give the lass a headache. I never want to know of her in pain unless I’m the cause.

“What time?” she asks.

I clear my throat before I answer but my voice is still rough, “Noon.”

She slowly nods her head and breaks eye contact, staring at my leg. I want to comfort her, hold her. I want to fuck her and make her feel every bit of me, feel her shudder around me. Sleep underneath her and feel her body above me. I don’t do any of it and hope that what I actually manage to say is enough because I can’t do this right now. I do it now and I don’t think I’ll be able to get on the plane. I won’t be able to leave without her if I know what she feels like and I can’t have her come along. It just wouldn’t work. I can’t have her there.

“I’m comin’ back.” I don’t say anything else and she nods her head before turning around to slowly pack the photos away. I don’t like the sight of her back right now and I feel rejected. Silly fucking thing to feel right now, but it’s here.

Standing up, I leave her to lock myself in the bathroom. Stripping all my clothes off, I turn the shower on and step underneath the water without waiting for it to warm up. The cold helps to shock my hard-on away but it’s pretty much impossible to get rid of it entirely with her in the next room. Masturbating doesn’t appeal so I just leave it be.

After ten minutes I shut the water off and reach for a towel. Rubbing the towel over the top of my head a few times, I wrap it around my waist and brush my teeth. Figuring that Marin probably needs to do the same, I finish quickly and leave the bathroom, not bothering to pick my clothes up off the floor.

I know full well what walking out in a towel will do to Marin. I know my body and I know what women want. Not arrogance, plain hard fucking fact. I didn’t dry off on purpose. I just can’t get enough of her face and what it says to me. I’ll provoke as many emotions from her as I possibly can. She’s bloody addicting. I’m fucking clueless half the time about what’s going through her head, at least I know some things. I know she wants to shag. However, does she want to fuck me as badly as I want her? I bloody well doubt it.

I smile when I walk out and see her on the couch, panting her toe nails. Her foot held up by her face; not the sexiest way to paint a toe nail but I don’t think the act is all that come fuck me to begin with. She pays no attention to me and it’s a bit offensive. The nerve of the bird.

Walking to stand over her, I say, “Don’t drip that shite on my bed.”

Lifting her head, her eyes get caught on my stomach and I will my dick to behave. Her hands still their activities and I actually worry that she may drop the little brush…stick thing. Slowly, I reach down and take the tiny bottle of red liquid and its top out of her hands. She doesn’t move or make a sound, she just lets me do as I wish. I have to say, her response is quite the fuckin’ ego boost.

“Go brush your teeth,” I say and I’m even more stunned when she mutely nods her head and slides off the couch, making sure not to touch me. I watch her walk into the bathroom, my hands itching to grab her hips, pull her back against me and bend her over the counter.

Looking down at the couch, it’s comfortable and I’ve passed out on it on many occasions, but I don’t want to sleep on it tonight. I want to go up there and pull Deck out of my bed, taking my kindness back and claiming what’s rightfully mine. I, of course, won’t do that. The bathroom door is closed and I don’t want to spend tonight sleeping alone. I just don’t. I bought her bed, I slept in it last night, and I know it’s comfortable. I want to sleep with her. Beside her. She’ll say yes. She has to.

I take it upon myself to invite myself into her bedroom. I was kind enough to put some underwear on, but that’s it. Too bloody hot for anything more. I shut the lights off, leaving the lamp in the living room on so she won’t trip over anything, and I make myself comfortable in the middle of her bed. Folding my hands under my head, I stare at the ceiling and wait for her. She takes too god damn long and I wonder if she’s died in there or somethin’. If she doesn’t get her arse in here soon, I’m gonna pass out waitin’ for her. I roll over on my stomach, ending up on one side, and shut my eyes. Dropping my hand, I swing it loosely over the side of the bed and sing Natasha in my head. Lovely song.

Marina

I don’t know why I suddenly felt the need to shave my legs, I just did. I hate when you get those silly urges at the most inopportune moments, like when you want to sleep. So I spent ten minutes shaving. I sat on the counter, my legs in the sink, and I amused myself with the shaving cream on the mirror. Cleaning that up took an extra four minutes. I had thought about leaving it all up, cause I drew pictures and whatnot, but I worried that maybe it would harden overnight and I would have to chip it off in the morning. That would be no good at all. So I cleaned up after myself like a good roommate.

When I leave the bathroom, the flat is dark save for one light and I look to the couch to find Callum. He’s not there and I’m immediately on edge. I have no idea if he’s going to jump out from around a corner or something. I walk slowly and nothing leaps out at me. Once I step in my room, I can’t help but smile. Callum’s almost hanging off the side of my bed. He didn’t get underneath the blankets and he’s clothed in nothing but a pair of underwear. Those tight boxers. I don’t even know what they’re supposed to be called but I must admit that I prefer them to the loose boxers. His legs are long and his feet bare. I have the urge to tickle them but I don’t want to wake him up. He kicked me off the couch cause it was supposedly his bed. What happened? Not that I mind. If this is his last night here for a while, I don’t want to sleep without him. I sleep better with him beside me. I feel safe hearing his breathing.

I don’t know what kind of an evil bastard he is, but that whole bathroom towel stunt he pulled was not nice. The ink on his hip was staring me in the face and I couldn’t quite get past the general area. I was going to be upset with him to. He just took off for the bathroom and didn’t even talk to me about his leaving. He had to have known that I was upset. When was he going to tell me? I was planning on giving him the silent treatment and then he walked out all wet and sexy and those were the only words I could think of. I ended up not speaking to him anyway, but it wasn’t exactly in the way I had wanted.

Glancing at him, I assume he’s asleep and try my best to climb into bed without waking him. Despite the bout with the head pain, tonight was fun. Deaglan seems like a really good guy and the way he and Callum are with one another is adorable. They bicker like brothers, only brothers usually aren’t as loving afterwards. I’m glad that Emma decided that she wanted to go home. Callum had told her that she could stay if she wanted but she decided to go. I’m glad because after Deaglan went to sleep, it was just Callum and I. And if Emma had stayed, she’d be laying in the bed next to me. I think I much rather prefer being in bed with Callum. Not that Emma doesn’t cuddle, she does. It was amazing looking through those pictures and seeing his childhood. His parents were beautiful together. Both were incredibly good looking and it’s no wonder where Callum got his looks from.

Ten seconds under the sheet, I realize why Callum didn’t bother with it at all. Kicking it off, I sigh when my legs are free. I should have worn shorts. When did it get so hot? Callum usually keeps the air conditioner on all the time so I rarely notice the heat unless I go outside. The store is always cool, his flat is always cool, and it’s heaven. As if it can read my mind, I hear the AC start up and soon I can feel the cool air from the vent on the ceiling. I don’t know if Callum planned it and positioned the bed this way on purpose, but the bed is so perfectly placed. It’s not too far under the vent that I would freeze or get a sore throat from the cold air, but it’s just right so if I roll over to the other side, I can escape the breeze. Callum happens to be on that side, however. If I get cold I guess I’ll just have to cuddle up to his back.

Feeling the temperature drop already, I sit up and look down at Callum. He’s almost naked. I don’t want him to get cold in the middle of the night and wake up freezing. Leaning over him slightly, his eyes are closed and I think he’s really dead asleep. He won’t notice the sheet so I pulled it up over his legs just in case he needs it later and I do the same for my legs. I lie back down on my side and spend some time fixing the sheet and flattening it around us. I have this odd thing about sheets. I have to have them nice and flat, no wrinkles, or it drives me insane. It either has to be really neat or really messy. I can deal with the really messy. It’s just when there’s that one wrinkle down at your feet. I just cannot stand it.

“Soddin’ bed Nazi,” Callum mumbles, shifting farther toward the middle of the bed so that his arm is no longer dangling. He turns his head towards me and smiles, his eyes still shut.

I smooth his hair back and run my fingers against his scalp. He makes a noise in the back of his throat that sounds like an odd grunt of approval emitted from a cougar. Suddenly he lifts his body up on his elbows and looks over his shoulder, “Did you cover me?”

I laugh at how oblivious he is and he turns over on his side and grabs at me, pulling me against him and kissing up my neck. I freeze, not knowing what to do. His touch is so unexpected and my entire body goes into this strange buzzing shock. He fists his hand in my hair and forces my head back. My mouth opens on reflex and I stare up at the tree looming above us. The room is dark and I can’t see the details but I know where they are. His teeth scrape against my neck and my hand is clutching at his side. His stubble scratches my skin and he slides his leg between mine. Using his body, he rolls me onto my back and somehow he’s at my stomach and I don’t know how he moved so fast. His left hand slides down my leg and under my knee, pushing it up. I bend my knee and bring my foot up to lay flat on the bed. His palm grips at the back of my thigh but he doesn’t move it. I’m part relieved and part upset, but I feel such pride and awe at his restraint. He’s never seemed the type, but he’s never pushed himself on me and he’s always seemed content to go slow. It’s amazingly erotic and frustrating all the same.

He slides my shirt up to my breasts and kisses along my belly. Not like the kisses on my neck, these are soft and gentle. Reverent. His mood has changed so drastically. My breathing is deep and I reach down to run my fingers through his hair. He rubs his cheek against my stomach and rests his chin above my belly button.

“I’m tired, heart,” his voice is rough and his eyes dark. He doesn’t look tired and he definitely does not feel tired. He moves up to lie next to me and pulls my shirt back down to cover my belly. He leaves his hand and I wonder how long it will take me to get to sleep after that.


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Author’s Note:
The song Natasha is by Rufus Wainwright.

“Danger! Danger! High voltage! When we touch, when we kiss, when we touch!” - Danger! High Voltage by Electric Six.