Disclaimer: I don't own Victorious or any of its characters.
Warning: Mild, incredibly mild mentions of sex.
A/N: Beck keeps me inspired; I can't believe this came to me so quickly after my last one shot.
Sunlight
The sun streams through the windows splaying across her back. Glistening and gliding with the soft rise and fall of her breathing.
And oh my god I can feel my walls tumbling down.
She's hypnotic and drug like in her sleeping state and that's when I know what she's always known, that it's never going to be anyone but her.
She loves to play it coy in her brazen nature. And just like Jade it's an oxymoron within itself. Like everything else she does, confusing and tantalizing, refusing to let me go and promising to set me free.
She tells everyone that she's mine but in reality I know that I'm really just hers. I'm her victim and like always it's oh so sinfully willing.
The sun grows stronger and it stirs her a little more awake causing her to shift and turn on to her other side drawing my eyes from the suns patterns to her own more permanent markings. Regretless is written lightly on her ribs followed by Free further down on her hips.
Black ink on alabaster skin so penetrating and striking that I have to keep myself from tracing over the words with my fingertips like I've done a million times before. So afraid to wake her to have her stop me from soaking in the raw beauty that still manages to leave me breathless and dizzy.
I remember the first tattoo. The first real one at least that isn't a star tattooed just to show her parents that she couldn't be controlled. The first one that really showed her for who she was unafraid and ready to admit that sometimes we make mistakes but that they should never be regrets. Just things we should build up upon bad memories to remind us that there's always the next day to become better to evolve into what we really want to be.
Her dark decadent hair is splayed out across her clean white pillow. Taunting me to run my fingers through its silky raven locks. To grab a hold and pull just hard enough to make her whimper but not hard enough to hurt, like the night before and many nights before, lost and drowning in sex that's way too rough and fragile and haunting to be real.
I smile softly remembering the night before, quietly whispering to her how much I loved her hair. Remembering her snarky reply of it being brown just like Tori's. Questioning if that's why I loved it so I could picture Tori instead. Reminding her firmly that I only love her and that while her hair is a beautiful dark coffee color Tori's hair is limpid and chestnut, and no one likes chestnuts anyway.
Her smiles are always so soft and faint but I know that they are there because secretly she doesn't hate people she just pities them. Pities anyone who's so content in being normal, anyone who relishes in not daring to stand out, relishes in not daring to risk hate. Because she always takes risks, always chooses honesty over friends.
She pushes Tori because she sees something hiding in the chestnut girl that's akin. Something that she feels she needs to twist and screw till Tori finally allows it to come tumbling headfirst out. And when she forgets that people have limits and boundaries I'm there to remind her to be nice, to recognize that not everyone is as strong as she is. Not as ready to admit that it's more than acceptable to be different.
Sometimes I just want to tell that everything will be okay. That it's okay to listen to criticism, that it's okay to be afraid, that it's okay to just say thank you. But I don't. I don't tell her these things, I just let her deal with things her way, the special Jade West way that has the rest of the school kicking and screaming, and has me falling deeper and deeper into her tiny delicate hands.
The sun has finally risen and her room is completely blanketed in the warm June light. Her eyes flutter open and I try to turn away, try to pretend that I don't do this every morning after a night together. But my Jade knows better. She moves her self closer resting her head on my chest enveloping me in her arms. It makes me smile knowing that she enjoys my presence just as much as I enjoy watching her in the morning.
She softly murmurs a greeting, never a good morning just a soft quick morning and starts to fade back to sleep. And like always I return her greeting with a faint I love you because my girl doesn't like loud voices before ten o'clock in the morning. I can feel her grin burning into my chest followed by a soft nuzzle and that's all I need to feel so amazingly content.
I let her sleep longer, knowing that both of us are more than okay with missing school. Plus, I'd much rather watch my girl sleep. No matter how often I do it the routine is my saving grace. It keeps me content knowing that tomorrow, and the day after and all those days after that I'll get to watch her sleep. Get to remember why it's so good to be alive and in love.
Get to remember why it's so good to be me.