[1/1] Let's just say Faking It was my 2012-2014. I was Amy, she was Karma... and there was a Liam involved.
Your throat tightens every time she flirts with you. When you respond equally flirtatiously, you pray to God or Allah or Jehovah or whoever the fuck runs this fucked up universe that your voice doesn't shake with the underlying emotion you've tried to hide for so long. You know those watching, taking creep shots and pap style videos might be able to see it on your face- they fucking analyze your lunch choices in relation to your "bedroom troubles" for God's sake. Never buying "ethically sourced" salmon filet for lunch again. But of course they'd be able to see the ever so slight twitch of a smile you try to wipe away before she can see, they'd be able to see a hard swallow you try to do as motionlessly as possible, they'd see you swallowing your shame in a hard lump down the throat.
"Mmm. You smell good." She took that one out of the bedroom, and tried it out in public (with an acceptably large audience, of course). It surprised you because: 1. the fact that she ever alluded to that night was baffling, and 2. this raised the bar in public from bubblegum cute to overtly sexual. If there were any lines left to cross between the two of you in solidifying the authenticity of your relationship to the public, it would be getting caught fucking in the parking lot or something Liam Booker-ish like that. And when she said that, you swear she saw it on your face because you could see her ears getting red- but it was probably just from the hoots and whistles surrounding you. You were slack jawed, your eyes wide. Collect yourself.
"You smell good too, Karma."
When she kisses you, you try so hard, so goddamn hard to reign yourself in. You almost fucking lost it at the botched threesome. You never want to seem too handsy, too eager, too turned on. And that night, it was such a pleasurable torture to keep yourself from grabbing her ass, and making your way down to her neck. You liked this too fucking much. So much, once you accidentally used tongue- it was a quick lick that you instantly regretted, turning stiff as she stopped kissing you. She scolded you for it, never meeting your eyes (only after she let you in for a few quick swipes, breaking the kiss soon after. You guessed she was saving the both of you the embarrassment of rejecting you).
But then one day, she gave you tongue too. One of the last kisses you ever had as a "couple". And God, oh God you've never been more turned on in your life. She practically attacked you, pushing you up against your locker and kissing you harder than she ever had before. There wasn't a bit of chasteness, or gentleness. You barely registered the woops and awws passing you by. That's right, because it was right after you "got back together". This was just pity porn for them. But you were on fire when she gave a cautious lick, and then fully entered your mouth. You couldn't get enough of the taste of her and you choked on a gasp. It felt like seconds that doubled as hours long once she pulled back. Her face was unreadable for a few moments, her eyebrows slightly coming together in the middle. Then, she started to walk away, and said loud enough for everyone to hear-
"I'm glad you're mine again babe."
You swear she'd be able to hear your heart pounding on those nights she stays over, head on your chest, watching Netflix documentaries about foreign leaders. But then again, she never hears the waves of pleasure crashing over you when you brush hands. You want to throw up at the intimacy between the two of you. It's so fucked up. Before this fucking, stupid, idiotic girlfriend bullshit it was normal. You were normal. But now that you two play house, you can't even get close to her without feeling a pulsating energy vibrating between your flesh and hers. It's sickening. The current feeds the fucking live wire that is your fingertips. It's a fight to relax. You can't relax anymore, not fully. Not when she's around. You can't get too comfortable.
It's a little bit of a fucked up blessing when you finally tell her you love her, and she rejects you. You told the truth and a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. And for once, for fucking once, you can relax because she can't be around you. Well, no, she comes straight back, serenading you at the window, making grand romantic gestures. Sure, it stings, but there's a small but defined distance between your bodies now. You don't have to suffer a touch anymore.
Letting her go made it even easier. That distance was becoming more prominent, you didn't gain third degree burns every time your hand touched another's- another's who would always be Karma. Correction- always was Karma.
Thank fuck for Reagan.
Being in love with someone you couldn't have for however long, it came with a lot of pent up sexual frustration and energies. Yeah, the hand holding and kissing in public with someone who reciprocated your affections, your infatuation was enough... but only for a short while. When you finally started having sex- you initiated- babe found it an awesome turn on that you were so aggressive. But it wasn't necessarily because you lusted for her. That lust was being used on her- she was never really the target more often than not.
You couldn't kiss Karma whenever you want? Alright, let's have Reagan's lip chewed up by the time we're done. You can't hold Karma, in your bed, soft and sweet like this? Great- you can get on top of Reagan, rough and hard, grab her face harshly, holding her arms above her head with your free hand, leaving little bruises on her wrists. You fantasize about kissing Karma's thighs? Okay, let's leave a trail of bite marks and hickeys leading you there. You could scratch, bite, bruise places you would never be able to touch Karma. And maybe in the moment, you thought you were being rough just to be rough- but once you sat down and thought about it, you knew why you did it. It's not very fair Reagan gets punished for Karma- a little bit of a reverse voodoo doll- but you have an insatiable need to physically break her. Push her as far as you can because you have so much anger, so much lust, so much love, with nowhere else to go but your hands. There are times where you take it too far (usually after scrolling through Instagram, Twitter, Facebook and you see them) and she has to yell out a chorus of "Amy's" and "babes" through bleeding lips to get you to calm down- she'll take over soft and slow, agonizingly slow, but you can always see a hint of fear in her deep eyes. It's fucked up that it turns you on a little bit.
But again, thank fuck for Reagan. She loves you- and you kinda love her back- and it's a great distraction from the love you really have. You'll probably come to love her like she does you- because you do her and that punishment just feels too good to let go.
Little bit of a weird format and POV I'm playing around with- lot of verb tenses that need to be cleaned up or altered, hopefully you can tell that this oneshot is moderately chronological, and holds sort of a reflective stance on current and past happenings.