Love — I’ll write a drabble of my character admitting they love yours.Lust — I’ll write a drabble of our characters making love together.
there are times when she sees it, when they’re walking along the sidewalks of the city and she turns back to tell him something. there’s a certain look in his eyes, something that makes the city feel like it contains only her, and not millions of people. it catches her off guard every time, makes her feel exposed, like she’s being scrutinized, but some not uncomfortable.
there are times when she hears it in the way he says her name, two simple syllables rolling off his tongue, floating like a symphony of four letters into the space between them, filling her ears with a music she had never heard before. she hears it in the way they laugh when they’re together, him sweetly, her somewhat reluctantly, tripping over each other’s words like children on a sidewalk crack and floating, always floating.
and there are times when she almost says it, when she’s laying her head on his chest, wrapped up in a feeling that’s unique to him, or when he visits her at work, eyes glancing from side to side, a tiny giggle as they sneak kisses across the counter. the words are already formed, and she stops, looks at him from underneath her bangs, lips ready to make the first ‘i’ sound. but it always gets caught in her throat, unable to come out.
( “seungcheol?”
“yeah?”
“i...um...i- i was just wondering what we were going to have for dinner tonight. )
it’s never easy, at least not for her. but then again, the best things are never easy.
she kisses him deeply, sweetly, as if it was her job, as if his body was her artwork, a picture painted meticulously with each stroke of her lips. one, two, three on his jawline, one, two, three on his neck, pooling at the hollows of his collarbone, fingers unbuttoning each button slowly, deliberately, as if the sheets were strands of a meticulously built spider’s web, as if going any faster would break the gossamer strands from their grasp.
she angles her hips, hands on his chest, following the cadence of his heartbeat as she lowers herself. she’s like a ship, rising and falling with the waves, exposed skin like a tide, pulling her in then pushing her out ( slowly, always slowly ).
they’re pixie dust, fallen from the stars only to rise back up, path ambiguous, but destination as clear as crystal. they rise high, higher, stars at their fingertips, dizzy from the lack of oxygen at altitudes so far up. breaths quicken, hearts beat faster, limbs entangled, hands on her hips, teeth at her lips.
and when they fall they crash, she sees light in front of her eyes, alarmingly, blindingly, as if the solar system had clattered through the ceiling, fell around them with sunbeams and starlight.
she climbs off him, pulling the covers over them both as she nestled her head into his chest, mind cloudy and clear all at once. it didn’t make sense, but it didn’t have to.
“i love you.” she whispers in the dark, against his skin as her lips feel the beat of his heart, the most honest words spoken as she drifts off to sleep.
