god, he’s right. she does know him, she knows that despite the want to call somewhere home, he finds himself unraveled in strangers that could never know him the way she did. she knows that somewhere in that steel-guarded chest of his? there’s parts of his heart yearning to be touched, for the first time in forever. and god, she wants to be selfish. she wants to tell him to stay, to make him stay. even the idea of sleeping alone in the dark, with the stain of his lips the only thing to remind her that he was here, even that wasn’t enough. because now that she’s tasted the forbidden fruit, it yearns and aches, it tugs and breaks. and she wants him, in ways nobody could have wanted another person. just say, just —- be selfish for one point in your life. but she doesn’t, and she’s not. her touch is faint, her heart fluttered sadly in the sharp cages of her chest —- not nearly as protected, not nearly as under lock and key as his. and he’s smart, so smart. to keep it that way. however, she can’t be angry with him. where others would thrash around and pout, beg and plead for him to fall asleep with her, to just bathe in the presence and afterglow of what this was —- katherine hadn’t. she was far too kind, far too selfless, and far too entranced with the idea of maybe. maybe he can’t, but maybe he will. so instead she smiles, beneath the twist of a kiss, between parted lips. the shallow of his breath sounds like a request, for her to know that it’s not her —- that he never has the pleasure of waking up before the sunrise, arms wrapped in warmth. but she wanted that for him, she wanted his peace. “i know.” her voice is a gentle hum, fingertips placed on either sides of his cheeks, and she kisses him. the taste of his lips is no longer forigen, no longer an idea of what could be. it’s craving, a crazy hunger that was beginning to set forth under her skin, warming her veins, making her toes curl. it was sweet mumbling in heartless whispers from a boy who swore he couldn’t love ; couldn’t stay. katherine blake, did not believe him. and if that was her own undoing? if her pride and her humble ability to see the best outcome, in him — in this? if that was her downfall? she’d throw herself to the wolves each and every time. she’d watch as they tore her heart limb from limb, and willingly put it on the line, for him. it was silly, considering the idea had never plagued her mind until this moment, until she was a goner. taren was the boy who ruined others, but katherine? what was she? would she become a new version of herself? would she be the girl who broke others in search of something to fill the abandonment? the loss of her purity? in exchange for nothing but an experience. is that would he would become for her? now that nate was out of the picture, why else would he stay? but he promised —- he promised not to hurt her. would she believe that as well? or were they just words strung together in an orchestra of what she wanted to hear? and then he kisses her again, and her thoughts differ into nothing. he speaks, and the sweetness is coated in honey, she can taste it on his mouth, like her favorite candy. baby blues, almost iridescent, flutter open, trailing down his features. she wants to know what he looks like when he cares. “you won’t.” it’s so simple, like she could see it, just as clear as yesterday, or tomorrow. it’s as if she knows, for a fact, that taren could be the greatest good in her life. that she could be his. it’s so confident, in light of her vulnerability. in light of being naked, in light of being inexperienced, in light of being his for the first time. that’s her confidence, that’s where she chooses to place it —— in him. her thumb drapes down his lower lip, towering over him with a quiet hover. and if hurting her is a reason for him to stay? if hurting her will allow him to find home in a soft white duvet, in careless breathing? “you could stay..” it’s another whisper, this time, optional. her tone of voice, it’s telling him to consider it. to think about it, to give the idea a second thought if he must. but it’s his choice, it’s always his. she’s lost in the moment, she lets herself give away secret parts of herself, for him to lock away with the rest of his misfortunes. he teases her folds, the muscles in her jaw visibly flexing. pastels and hues of red taint her lips in a crimson stain, she parts, and sucks in a quiet gasp. trembling fingertips are shepard into a calm, interlacing with his, and giving her a sense of ease. his words are descriptive, it’s easy to follow instructions, but the sound of his voice? husky and yearning, practically begging to feel her? it does something to katherine, it turns her on, it pushes her to want more, to be more. god, she wanted him. her tongue darts out to wet her lips, she sucks in a breath, nodding her head and rolling her hips. fingertips, once cold are draped in warmth as she touches him. his length between her hands, guiding down inside her trembling legs. she edges his tip, and in a single motion, he’s inside her —- she’s his. her frame is lowered, one hand on his chest, the other on the mattress by his head. it takes a moment to adjust to his size, it almost hurts. you can tell by the expression on her face, furrowed brows and glossed lips. “fuck,” another string of curse words are assembled in beautiful poetry. in a devastatingly slow motion, she can feel her body relax, walls tightening around his member as she takes all of him. her body fighting the surge of pleasure that escaped pale features in the form of a moan. she repeats the same motion, rolling her hips up, and back down until she has a set rhythm. it’s passive, and quiet, it’s slow and unsteady — she can feel all of him, every tiny thrust, each movement, the pain is there but only as background noise as the pleasure begins to take reign. she sits upright, dulled nails scratching down the slope of his chest, leaving nothing but half-hearted red streaks in their wake. she finds her grip on his shoulder to balance herself, still gaining control, but not of the sounds that filter between them. she’s entirely out of her element with the gentle gasps, the humming moans, the way his name sounds etched on her lips, the way it would always sound from this point on, the only way she would remember it. he was big, especially for her first time. but god —– she wanted to make him ache. she wanted to drive him crazy. so she moved slow, as he told her, stopping at the head each time and teasing her clit, until the break of a second orgasm threatened to drench the both of them. again, again, and again, she takes every inch. “oh my god,” it’s mumbled, and she kisses against the crook of his neck, hips rolling faster, her endurance picking up as his cock went deeper. wet kisses of soft, admiration, turn desperate and needy. she’s finding spots on his neck that cause his breath to hitch, she’s marking them for later —- to remember. if sex was this good between two people who claimed to not be in love, she couldn’t have imagined what it must have felt like to be with someone you cared deeply about. she could understand why slips of passion could make someone spew romance in between tangled sheets, or why the girls in her books accidentally muttered that four letter word while they were under someone else. the muscles in her stomach twitched, they tightened, her legs shaking, tighter. and so, in the moment, the scared self conscious brain fluttered shut, and the lively need of another opened. he told her to tell him how she liked it – what it felt like. she can feel his body moving, against hers, in perfect rhythm as his hips met somewhere in between her movements. “just like that,” it’s breathy, she can barely understand herself with her mind leaping. her hips roll again, and she’s purposely grinding against him, harder this time, muffling any sound he might make with another harsh kiss, teeth skimming his lower lip. “harder–” a whisper, and it’s something entirely different, something entirely out of katherine blakes aspect, but she wants more, she needs more. “i need you-” katherine wasn’t a begger, she didn’t plead or pout, or push. but if she ever needed anything, right now, this was the moment. she brushes her nose against his, a sly smile caught in a breathy whine. “i love it when you say my name..” that four letter word. she could love things about him, love things he said — it didn’t mean she loved him. it didn’t mean that at all. but what if .. one night she might? what if she could? what if she wanted to?
