t h e . a f t e r m a t h . o f . t h e . f u n e r a l
n o t . f o r . g o o d . g i r l s
r&r
y o u k n o w I l o v e y o u
xo
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Because I love you."
"Rode hard and put away wet."
"The worst thing you've ever done, the darkest thought you've ever had; I will stand by you through anything…" "Why would you do that?" "You are not my girlfriend." "That's all I needed to hear."
"Three words and I'm yours."
....
....
He regressed in her arms; Chuck became so young; she felt pieces of him fall away, just slip away. Things shifted.
Everything was slower, like wading through honey; sounds were far away. Except breathing: breathing was thicker, affected, pain was strung up in it but still, it was constant. It was their constant, the only thing that was constant.
He dissolved, whatever reticence, caginess he had faded, burned-up and died. He didn't need to be anything or anyone, he wasn't proud.
Things stood still.
She felt every tremble, every heartbeat, every hitched breath… everything… his nails dug into her, hot breath on her skin, the nudge of his thigh, his hair whispering over her shoulder. They weren't themselves so rules didn't apply. Those people had ghosted away and were gone. She was lost, in the dark and lost. The person gripping desperately to her was so bare, so stripped and so pure except so ruined… Blair didn't know how to interpret him like this.
Things stood still.
Time streaked and ran like paint.
She fell back, slowly, with him, and waited.
She waited. "…Arabian… rode hard and put away wet"...
She waited. "…I don't love you."
She grazed a hand through his hair. He was crushing her a little bit with a dead sort of weight that felt a lot like sleep. His breathing was even, deep, slow: she guessed he was sleeping; finally Blair could breathe out her tension, her uncertainty.
Words caught in a dry throat's net. He couldn't say what he wanted, needed, desperately needed, not after a silence that long.
"Blair…"
It was almost a question, almost a command.
His thigh parted her thighs, his hands pinned her hands to the sheets. She didn't know how to articulate anything.
She could barely breathe, she wasn't ready, she wasn't ...anything...
He didn't look at her as he kicked off his pants, but she looked at him. He pushed his cock against her, he just need to feel her, feel something, feel good maybe. He pushed against her, hard, harder, until she could feel him fill her so completely, and she could only bite her lip to transfer the pain, as he unforgivingly, erratically rocked inside her.
Then he looked at her. "The darkest thought you've ever had."
Her eyes pleaded with him.
Still deep inside of her, Chuck bent forward and his tongue wandered lazily, languidly, tracing wet circles over her snowy skin. His fingertips danced over the sensitive space just below her stomach, biting down on her nipples like he knew she loved, relishing her body arc upwards inviting him down, asking for more.
Her breath rode on little moans.
He dragged her hips towards him and slipped in a little further, feeling her muscles squeeze down.
His hands inched down, and then stopped… Chuck's whispering, husky voice violated the air…"Touch yourself"
He needed her; he needed to just lose himself in her, in the moment.
Their eyes locked.
"Because I love you…"
"That's too bad."
They weren't themselves; the world had slipped away. Everything seemed without consequence, they could do anything, now that everything had been said.
Chuck wanted her, he wanted release, he wanted to free everything, just rid his mind of any restraint. He loved her, and knew she would do anything he asked of her to make him feel something, feel better, feel anything other than pain.
She wondered how much of herself she should lay on the line…
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .