Penname: xotiffy
Original or Derivative (fanfiction): Derivative
Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s): M
Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.
Prompt: "Sour" and Fall (max. 500 words)


She makes me fall to my knees. I would do anything for her.

So when she tells me she wants me to take her to the apple festival downtown; when she insists that we go apple-dunking even though the thought of sticking my face in a barrel of other people's germs repulses me; when she finishes her slice of apple pie and begs me for a "bite" (which, by now, I know is code for "all") of mine... Well, fuck. How can I say no?

She has free reign. She is the rain. She's showers and storms and clouds and thunder and lightning. She sustains me and she scares me and all I want is to be drenched in her.

She doesn't always let me, though. She's careful, controlled, tightly wound. She says she's been burned too many times.

Sometimes, when we walk side by side, I have to reach out and touch her, to make sure she's still there, to make sure she's real. Sometimes I laugh at her, and she punches my arm. She pretends to be mad at me, and her punches hurt, but I don't mind. Those are the moments when I know I'm not dreaming.

We have our good days and our bad days.

The good days -- the best -- are the ones we spend in bed, turning off the world, exploring each other, unraveling each other, making each other come undone. Hands everywhere, nails marking my back, lemon on my lips and sour and sweet and wet on my tongue. Whispering secrets and words that mean something.

But on the bad days, she cries and she cries and she doesn't let me in. On the bad days, she tells me she loves me too much, that she wants me near her always; but she shakes her head when I tell her I want the same. On the bad days, she's silent. I can take her kicking and her screaming. I can take her anger. But when she shuts down, when she folds into herself and leaves me out in the cold -- it's like jumping out of a plane and knowing you didn't pack a parachute.

She is the love of my life. I mean, she is it for me, and I couldn't stay away from her if I tried.

But sometimes I can't help but wonder how I will ever survive this fall.