got me addicted to all the wrong things, baby :)
he doesn't look even an inch of the filth that he is. like a damn capitalist, I suppose.
but if you look close enough you'll realize his smile never reaches the depth of his eyes, even though his irises shine warmly at the speaker. his pupils are always pin-pointed. like a cat'sā sharp, calculating and forever looking greedily for his own selfish relief.
I was damned from the moment those eyes landed on me, sought me out alone from that tight, traditional setting and offered me a smoke, even though he knew neither of should be.
"I don't smoke, sorry"
"really ? a damn shame"
inhaling red marlboro in-front of me between those strong fingers, knowing damn well he's acting too casual for what we should be. his eyes barely leaving sight of me for more than a minute, like he wants me to ask him to teach me, corrupt me, play his little game so that he can watch me abandon my picture perfect morals for bodily pleasures.
and maybe I was stupid, or maybe I was bored, or both, or just plain horny, tired of scrolling with my hand under my shorts every night to the same trope over and over again. I let him corner me in isolated halls, let him believe that his sweet words spun their magic on me as he cooed me to the bathroom stalls.
I half expected him to be rough, or at least, uncaring. but he was slow, careful. like we had all the time in the world, even when we didn't. slowly taking my lips into his, guiding me through every action as he shed his coat on the small white tiles of the now locked bathroom. at first, it felt dirty. pressing my naked torso against the bathroom wall, as he examined every bump, mole and curve.
even then, I expected him to back out. I wasn't picture perfect in any sense or manner. Even though it was okay to be so, I couldn't shake off the feeling of insecurity in that moment. but it took me no time to forget it all when his teeth latched onto the fat of my curves, i could feel his sharp canines grazing softly against my skin. that man wanted to devour me, right there, like I was the only meat worth eating for him.
in that 30 minute encounter, leaving me more open and exposed than ever in my life, I wonder if he secretly slipped nicotine in my body. because I was addicted to the feeling of his skin on mine.
even though we barely ever met, maybe like, once a month on accident. he managed to slip me to the side and have me as he pleased. I never wondered why my parents or even my friends wondered where I was. I assumed they began thinking I liked taking thirty minute breaks. either way it worked out.
each time he came prepared, always giving me something new to think about for the following nights. his mouth latching onto every intimate crevice he could find of me, leaving teeth marks on the flesh where only my eyes could see in the showers, making me wet every time I did.
face of an angel, eyes of the devil. he had me thinking about him so frequently like some lover, even though I was convinced we were everything but that. or so I thought.
* . +
i know he's watching me, he always is. we haven't met in a month and a half. but it's been long enough that I assume he must be getting tired of this unstable, once in a blue moon arrangement.
I want to forget him too, because I was afraid to fall in love with him between these lust-driven encounters, where we just talked behind the halls and isolated stairways.
he still offered me a smoke, and I still denied. because the look in his eyes, usually so bright and cautious, dilated to something I couldn't- didn't want to figure out, was addicting enough.
he manages to whisper in my ears while passing by, placing his empty glass on the table beside my waist.
"meet in the bathroom in five"
I give him no reaction, and he doesn't look back either. what if i don't go ? will this signify the end of our dirty little secret- or will he still wait, not because he feels something for me, because the lack of morality in this arrangement gets him higher than the most expensive cigarettes.
twenty minutes. not by choice, really, it was hard escaping the people around me. but I still expected him not to be there. so I take my time with it, walking slowly through the corridor, looking at the display ornamental guns and maps on the wall, like there was no one waiting for me.
but he was, still there, smoking in a corner by the wall. his eyes much darker than before. was he mad ? that I kept him waiting ? I approach just as casually, not uttering a single word. he just looks at his watch, before crushing his cigarette under his heel and pulling my head towards his in a manner that had no label except possessive.
the nicotine was still fresh in his mouth as he transferred it into mine. fingers well tangled in my hair, he pulls back to look at my face.
"it feels like i smoked with you now"
a slow smirk spreads in his face, looking down at my face like he created it.
"good, I've been wanting to give you a taste for so long"
hot. what happened after that was purely guided by the heat in our loins and nothing else. sat on the sink as the same mouth that made me inhale his smoke was now somewhere below, licking and sucking like he'd never had dessert he actually liked before.
for the picky, lean man he usually was, i wondered if my body was the only thing he ate with no complaints. because his eyes were always so dark, making his iris indistinguishable from his pupils. and his lust, indistinguishable from his love.
"you're corrupting me, you know. we should stop this"
I mutter, looking at the wall opposite to the one he had me pinned to, as he hid his face in my neck.
he doesn't look up, softly kissing my skin as he mutters.
"no, you're harder to quit than cigarettes sweetie"
I still for a moment, feeling my heart fire up, in pure delusion. and maybe he felt it too.
"i love you, you know"
head coming up to peck my forehead as I look at him stunned from joy, or disbelief.
"can't give you up anymore"
I guess we're both ruined by addiction now.
