The music paved a path that our lips were more than content to explore. Taking our orders from the rhythms playing out of his old iPod, we both fell into the hotel’s blue leather armchair, unable to find a confident solution for sharing both of our weights. Due to the limited space, Finn had to perch slightly on my left thigh. His hands were pulling at the collar of my unzipped jacket, whilst I took comfort and thoroughly sourced out every ounce of contentment from the simple idea of how close we were to one another.
The wire was troublesome in between us, stopping our bodies from listening to themselves; causing us to take different routes to our desires. But, it was more than worth it. The music was our conductor. It directed this entire show. When it was heavy and climactic, when the bass came in and the guitar played so recklessly it felt like someone’s vocal cords being ripped to shreds, when the artist channelled all of their emotion into that chorus, truly meaning and owning the words, a chain reaction reached our minds. When we’re both at the peak of a piece of music, looking down at all the previous and future verses, our kiss is intense. It’s hungry. It’s reminding us of the one thing we want to forget. The one impending fact looming over our heads every time we were together. It was dangerous. At that point, the music had control over us. It had the power to uncover thoughts buried deep underground. And trust me when I say, for my sake as well as his, those emotions were better left untouched.
But when the music was soft, when it was a build-up to something bigger, when you could distinctly hear the fragility of the violin’s strings or the restraint in the singer’s voice, when you could hear the drummer gently tapping the cymbals and quickly stopping the vibration, our kiss was relaxed. A gentle massaging of each other’s lips. No hunger. No intensity. Just pure innocence. Pulling away quickly, respecting boundaries, and finding warmth in the safety of it all. When the music died down, so did our passion.
We had just reached the hook, the tell-tale sign that the mountain was getting steeper, the summit was within reach. I pull away from Finn’s lips, earning me an unhappy groan, and move down to his neck. I gently place myself on his collarbone, leaving nothing there but an excited buzz. I make my way towards his mouth, getting more intense as the distance shortens, the music getting louder and louder. I hear Finn pant, begging for air, needing a release from the pleasure, but in no way wanting it.
‘My- My parents will be back-’, the chorus is about to begin and I begin to properly take in his neck, his skin warm on my tongue. That shuts him up.
‘You’, I say in between kisses, ‘Think…Too…Much.’ And with that, I take the back of his head, grabbing onto his messy blonde hair and push his lips into mine with the most intensity, heat and power that I can muster.
theartofmadeline
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