Disclaimer: I don't own Gossip Girl.
There never were words.
Only gasps, moans, intelligible murmurs and groans.
But never words.
They knew it was wrong, they couldn't afford the truth. The cutting truth. So they just acted like they were strangers because, in the end, that is what they were.
No deals, no promises, no guarantees.
She was like a silver star in the sky – unattainable and unreachable.
He was like a dirty story book. Prohibited to be seen in public but tempting to be browsed nonetheless.
They met whenever they could. And lately they wanted it all the time.
Sparkles lit the moment their lips touched. Hands wandered loose. Buttons and zippers became superfluous. The gorgeous rock on her left ring finger was a mere detail.
Delicate hands pulled on soft cotton fabric. Trembling fingers smoothed rich lace.
Although they tried all they could to avoid the dreaded Gossip Girl's texts sometimes they just couldn't help themselves.
On these days any secluded corner would do. Sometimes an old hotel staircase, sometimes a downtown coffee shop restroom. Anywhere they could calm their longing for each others skin and taste.
It wouldn't last long, only the right amount of time for a long awaited kiss, a yearned caress, a suppressed desire.
An exposed breast would be immediately covered by a kneading hand, a bare neck tortured by soft lips.
Soon they were meeting at his place, the safest rendezvous they could think of. No words. She just happened to show up one hot Wednesday afternoon knowing he would be there. Alone.
The minute he opened the door she clung to him shutting the door close behind with her impossibly high heel.
Books flew from his bed to the floor. Her silk bra covering one.
While urgent fingers searched the drawer for a condom eager lips had his mouth trapped in an endless kiss.
More gasps, moans and murmurs until the final explosion. Still not a word exchanged, the only sounds being their pants of ravishment.
It was always her that shifted first. He winced every time her dark curls left his chest. He closed his eyes searching for the right words. They never came. And even if they did he never had the courage to utter.
She never looked at him while gathering her clothes dispersed all over the place.
His eyes were still shut when she leaned in for one last kiss before leaving. Her scent was intoxicating.
He would die if she never showed again. Fortunately – or not – she always did.
Thank you.