Lucas never feared love. Though he had his issues with commitment. And he knew one could not be entirely realized without the other, but he never needed love to realize for it to feel good. For him to want it. So even when he could not have her, even when she did not love him; Lucas still allowed himself the feeling. The selfish and uncontrollable want. Because when she came around into his life, everything became easier. Every chore, every responsibility, every burden, every fucked up thing that ever happened was not as bad as it could have been; had she not been around.
So he loved her. Because it was easy. He did not lie about that. It was easy to love someone who made it exciting to wake up in the morning, and go to sleep at night. Someone who laughed at his jokes, even when they weren't all that good. And who got in his car in the middle of a stormy night, and spent months on the road asking for nothing in return. She became a part of him, slowly, over time, and when she was gone and he was left to his own devices and he realized she was not coming back; it felt like losing a part of himself. Like a limb had come off and he was left with phantom pains in its place. The kind that felt surreal, when he'd look to the side and find next to him a stranger. Or when he'd call other people by her name, because it was a habit, because it lived upon his tongue.
He never showed how much her absence had changed him. And how quickly he spiraled into someone unrecognizable. But it was evident. Because he no longer cared for a damn thing. There was nothing holding him tethered to anything. He was flying, aimlessly, through space and time. He no longer cared where his next meal might come from. Or that he had smoked a dozen joints before noon. He no longer cared that his shower was the sea, or that he had called in favors and slept on couches of people he'd barely known.
Only when she returned, and he saw her again at that party, only then did he come to understand how the entire time she was gone he was in a perpetual state of 'waiting'. He was waiting for her, and he was wasting time, and he should have been smarter, and he should have made something of himself, and perhaps, he should have moved on.
But none of that mattered now.
Because the waiting was done.
And it was worth it.
His eyes glistened in the dancing shadows of the dark room, covered with a sheer fabric of lust that rose up from his jeans to his throat to his eyes. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Perhaps it was the eyes that set way for the rest of him to wake, he did always like to look.
Even with the strength that could be sensed beneath her skin, she remained soft and gentle. And Lucas could have sworn that, for a moment, she got embarrassed by whatever thought urged her hands to cover her face; to cover a smile he'd not wanted obstructed. He'd wanted nothing obstructed. So his hands reached for her wrists, pulling them away from her features where they were met with a wide grin over his face. "You're sweet." he said, letting go before his fingers stopped at the side of her waist, and he tickled just to see if that sensation still remained now that her body was made of something new, something eternal.
He kissed her wherever he could, and his own skin burned as his heart thumped against his chest. Smile had faded, mind set on something more primal now. Gooseflesh covered his hands, and travelled down his back as she lifted up to pull down the confining fabric of his trousers. He wet his lips, tense and impatient as she inched forward, and kissed him, and teased him, and he swallowed hard when he'd felt the wetness at his tip, and when she asked a question he did not hear. His ears were buzzing, his mind spinning. The wetness turned into soft lips that travelled down, then back up, then in and then out and his mouth felt open and he held in a groan that had built up in sheer anticipation of something more.
And he had wanted more.
And he was not as patient as he might have hoped.
Because the waiting was done, and he had waited enough.
Lucas' eyes found the dark brims that were looking up from beneath, as she was taking him in with a rhythmic motion of her mouth and her hands, and he was entirely too weak to make her stop; so he took a moment she slowed to pull himself out, and to nudge her forward and press her against himself, hard, as he unhooked her bra, and it slid down her arms. He could feel himself tense, harder and further -- and his skin was on fire and he could not tell if he was more man or beast, ready to devour. So he pressed his lips violently against her, his arms wrapped around her, travelling over her body as if he could breathe her in, as if no part of her should be left untouched.
He was not aware of his own strength, as he split her legs open to wrap them over his waist only to crash down laying on top of her and break the wooden support beneath the bed which sounded in creaky protest. It's not that he didn't notice, it's that it did not matter. He pushed himself against her, nostrils flaring with anger that arose with realization there was still cotton, drenched between her legs. He ripped the undergarment off, shoved it to the side like it was the worst thing man had ever made. He would have thrust in, in an instant, thoughtlessly and mindlessly, had he not caught her eyes.
He paused, breathing fast and hard. There were no words adequate enough to fully convey the state of his mind, his body, the way he'd wanted to consume her, to ravage her. But he pushed it all down, for a moment of pause. A moment where he just looked at her again, where he moved slowly. His hands patient, as they travelled between her legs. He pressed his fingers against her wetness, staying slow and gentle, when all he'd wanted was to be a beast; his mind was still human, still in tune enough to allow her a second of respite, to allow her to settle beneath his weight and relax into the wrinkled sheets.
When he could feel her over his fingers, and her back arched, and her hips started helping him along. He stopped, his tip warm between her, rested at the tight pleading entrance.
And he waited.
Because waiting for her was always worth it.
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