"Self-preservation is the first law of nature."
-Samuel Butler
I always end up back here.
The rain is pounding on my windshield, obliterating my view of the apartment from my eyes. I'm gripping the steering wheel, my chest trembling with sick anxieties and anger. My eyes squint through the sloshing of the windshield wipers, just to catch a glimpse of her window.
Two hours ago I barely even wanted to see her.
Last night I even had a dream of stabbing her in the chest. A dream analysis google search told me that I feel helpless to stop what's happening to me, or that I feel the need to protect myself against hostility or disagreements. Perhaps I'll have another tonight as I'm lying next to her.
Two hours ago she refused to answer even my texts messages, but that's only served to strengthen my resolve to burst into her apartment, to shake her, to get it through her goddamn head that I love her.
I can hardly even remember the argument. It started as something small. I want her respect, she wants her autonomy…. The same, continuous conflict that has plagued us from day one. I don't even have to remember the exact words to know our latest explosion is just another layer of hurt feelings and crossed boundaries on top of barely healed wounds.
It's never been easy to love her, and maybe that's why it's easier to find myself here with every intention of walking into that apartment and working her compliant with the touch of my hands and mouth rather than my words and understanding.
I've spent enough time stalling here in my car and the rain is far from stopping. My phone buzzed barely a minute ago informing me that there is a severe storm warning.
I shouldn't even be here...for more than one reason, but here I am, as predictable as the phases of the moon.
I yank the hood of my jacket over my head and grab the door handle as I shut off the engine. I duck out into the rain and slam the door behind me as the the wrath of skies whips against me, pelting my shoulders and face with unrelenting water droplets.
I pull my hood tighter around my neck and face as I dash across the street and up the stairs to the front gate of her apartment building. I don't have time to hesitate on buzzing for her with the weather soaking me through to the bone and I barrel through my fear to seek entrance.
"What do you want?" She demands from the other side of the speaker.
Her tone is sharp, but I can sense the exhaustion lying just beneath the steel plated armor of her emotions. She'll fight me, but neither of us can resist. I know when we see each other's faces it will all be over…
"Just let me in." I respond, glancing back at the street as the wind howls sharply and the rain cuts across my cheeks and body.
Silence crackles, barely loud enough to match the storm's mighty voice.
"Amanda, please!" I insist, shivering with the cold and hovering into the corner of the building for some type of safety.
For a moment I think she will turn me away, and despair begins to seize me, but then after a long second the door falls open.
"Thank god…" I mutter, darting inside.
I come to stand in the foyer, dripping wet with the rain. The storm sounds eerily distant now as the door closes behind me. The rain washes hollowly against the roof and the windows, inciting creaks through every beam.
I can feel my clothes clinging to my clammy flesh as I begin to walk up the stairs to her apartment. I can't wait to strip them away and find myself against the heat of her body, warming myself until heat arises.
When I reach her door, I don't hesitate to knock. I know she's waiting, just on the other side.
Barely half a second passes before the door opens, spreading light out into the dim hallway and onto my shivering figure.
"What do you want?" She repeats.
Her blue eyes are stone cold, appearing almost gray beneath the pewter light and her jaw is clenched sharp. Her expression holds all the pain and anguish I've endured just to hold her close and call her mine.
"Let me in." I answer.
It's the same exchange we've just had a moment before, but then again there is nothing new here tonight.
"Liv…." She sighs on a note of exasperation and rubs her hand over her face slowly. "I didn't answer you for a reason."
"And I think we both know by now that you don't always want what you say you do." I say, pressing forward.
"Maybe I meant it this time." She frowns at me.
"We don't have to talk." I whisper, stepping just past the threshold, close enough for her to balk at our proximity.
"Then what do you want?" She returns, her voice barely rising above my own volume.
"I don't care what happened." I rush to say. "Not for tonight."
She nods slowly as if understanding the implications of my words and presence here.
She turns away from the door, leaving it hanging open and I quickly take the invitation, shutting us inside.
"You'd think we'd know by now to stop this foolish charade." She murmurs, walking to the window and glancing out at the rain.
"What charade?" I ask, hovering behind her.
My heart beats at an anxious rhythm, my stomach churning sickly. Every time we fight, I think it might be the end, but when she actually begins to talk in this manner, real and true fear strikes me.
"The one where we compromise….Where we become compatible through mutual respect and whatever else couples do." She answers, sharply. "There's someone else who will be what you want, Liv."
"I don't want anyone else." I murmur, drawing close.
Her golden hair is close enough to touch, falling in soft waves around her shoulders in the perfect cadence. I lift a trembling hand and graze her back, eliciting a sharp inhale from her.
"I want you and only you." I whisper, passionately, as the threat of tears prick my eyes.
"I'm not good enough for you." She says, softly, as if she's barely heard me. "I can't think past my own selfish desires half the time."
"I don't care." I whisper, grasping both of her arms from behind and dragging her close to me.
She moans quietly, swaying uncertainly in my hold.
I press my nose to her hair, drawing in the scent of every strand, letting it fill my head with airy thoughts of gentle kissing and passionate love making.
"You cared two hours ago." She finally answers, her tone raspy.
"I said we don't have to talk." I insist, sliding one arm around her and clutching the warmth of her stomach.
"And tomorrow I'll fuck up again?" She demands, pulling away from me. "Tomorrow we'll go back to being angry?"
She spins around to face me, her cheeks flushed, eyes glistening.
"Just admit it…. I will never be the perfect partner that you want!"
"I don't want perfect." I insist, my heart aching at her continuous self degradation. "I want you."
"You want an idea of me." Amanda shakes her head. "You want to take me to bed where I can be the submissive, adoring partner you've always wanted."
"That's not true!" I try not to let my voice rise, but I can hardly contain myself. "I want you to flourish. With me!"
She sinks back against the wall, covering her face in her hands. Her shoulders are taut, ready to snap into heaving and trembling.
"Amanda…" I intone, immediately wrought with regret for having raised my voice at her. Again.
I step in and gather her into my arms, cradling her head against my chest. At first, she pushes at me, disjointed gasps and pants breaking from her lips, but I won't let her go. I wrap my arm tight around her shoulders and push her back against the wall. I force her face up towards mine, seeking the connection of her gaze.
"I refuse to let you go." I whisper, vehemently, grabbing her face and shaking her just enough to jar her eyes open.
"You want me so much?" She breaths, tears still trailing from her eyes, "Take me!"
She throws out her hands, ripping away from my grip. Her eyes flash with a mixture of anger and pain as she tears her T-shirt off over her head, leaving her chest heaving and bare.
"Do it." She seethes, stepping forward to shove my chest with both hands.
I stumble back, my emotions twirling suddenly into a whirlwind at her violence. First anger blooms in my chest that she would lay a hand on me. My hands shake to grab her and hurt her in some way in return, but when I glance at the tears shimmering in her eyes, an entirely whole new set ravenous desire envelopes me.
I grab her, clenching my fingers tight around my biceps before slamming her back against the wall.
"Nnnng…." She moans as her back hits the wall.
I crush her there with the weight of my body, sliding my hands down her arms until I reach her wrists. Wrapping my fingers around them, I yank her arms above her head and duck my face into her neck.
"Ohhh…." She pants in my ear as I latch my mouth to her undulating pulse in a harsh kiss.
"This isn't over." I grind out. "We're not over. Not tonight."
"Because you say so?" She pants, squirming between my body and the wall.
"Because I know you still want me too." I return, lifting my head to latch onto her stormy eyes.
The world always seems to slow when I look into her cobalt gaze, as if the very planet is held together by the sparkling strands of gray, and all of the sky is made of the unending blue trapped within those two tumultuous orbs. Time stretches now, holding us suspended between resistance and action. I hardly breathe, and I know her chest is taut too, as if we're both waiting for the other to break.
I don't heed her hesitance.
I barely even remember the words that have been exchanged. All I know is that I want her - desperately, to the point of insanity.
I snap first, as always, as if invading the privacy of her home wasn't a breakdown already. I can feel my anger and uncertainty crashing down around me as desire plunders my every emotion, a fuel for the fire that consumes every inch of my being.
I drive forward, clenching her delicate wrists even harder as our mouths connect. I feel her teeth slam into my lip but the pain blooming across my flesh is nothing compared to the arousal enveloping my entire midsection. I take the pain, feed it to the hungry beast inside of me, and beg for more.
She rears against my hold, sucking down sharply on my throbbing lower lip, baring her teeth once more. A low growl in my throat erupts at the second flash of pain, and I slam her back, hoping to god that she feels the way I want to incinerate her beneath the fiery wrath of my desire.
Digging my knee between her legs, I drive my thigh up against her groin, forcing her to feel the pressure of my body against her raging sex.
"Ahhhh!" Her cry vibrates against my mouth but I only rock my hips into her harder.
She's squirming against my leg, both thrusting and resisting, but it doesn't matter. Either way, she's undulating against my flesh, creating the most teasing friction I can heap upon her, and I can feel pre-orgasmic tremors shaking her.
She strains against my hold, panting heavily as our lips meet over and over, tongues lapping, teeth biting. We're both already sweating and flushed, hearts pounding out of control.
"Take me, take me…" She breathes, her forehead digging into mine, just to separate ours ravenous mouths. "Right here. Do it."
Her husky demands strike a sharp spike of desire through my core, followed by a deep clench of my insides. I can feel the first gushes of wetness soaking through my panties, my pussy throbbing incessantly for her. The way I want to fuck her makes me nearly climax at the simple thought.
I drop my my knees, my hands dragging over her body before catching on the waistband of her pants. I lay a dozen or more kisses across her trembling stomach, stopping to suck and lick at her hip bones as I tear the button and zipper of her jeans open.
"Yes, yes…" She pants, her head lolling back against the wall as I force her pants down her legs.
Sitting back on my heels, I duck my face against her barely shielded crotch, my fingers gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.
"You make me fucking crazy." I breathe, dragging my fingers beneath her panties.
"You make me so fucking angry." She returns, her fingers sinking into my hair with a sharp yank.
I groan out at she tilts my head back, bringing our gazes into a alignment again. She's staring at me with an intensity that makes me want to whimper and lay myself bare for her. God, those eyes make me want to spread my legs and comes a across her beautiful mouth, but more than that I want to fuck her. Hard. Fast. Shove finger after finger into her until she screams, until she can't stand beneath the pleasure of my hand any longer.
"Fuck me." She whispers, her voice emanating raspy and low, a plea I wouldn't even think to dismiss.
"I'll fuck you…" I return, dragging her panties down with one quick yank. "I'll fuck you so good you won't be able to walk."
"Yes…." She gasps, sharply, her fingers twisting in my hair hard enough to burn pain across my scalp.
I slide my hand from her hips to her ass, gripping one soft, pliable cheek hard as I press in closer to her.
"Spread your legs for me, sweetheart." I demand, my voice quavering on the edge of collapse.
She kicks her pants off of her ankles, her legs trembling as she plants her feet wider, allowing me to slide up right against her.
She looks so damn beautiful splayed against the wall, her thighs straining open, her pussy displayed for my eyes and my fingers. I can just see her clitoris bulging against the hood of flushed flesh and her labia glistening with arousal; she's ripe for the taking.
I know her body well and even in the half light I barely falter as I bring my fingers to her hot, aroused core. As soon as I part her lips with a deft touch I can feel the wetness pooling at her entrance, begging me to slide my digits into her along the abundant lubrication.
"Oh, baby…" The halting moan spills from my lips at the simple sensation of feeling her gush against my hand.
She moans, squirming down against my hand.
"Liv…." She gasps, wrenching my hair once more. "Just put them in, goddamnit."
"You're telling me what to do now?" I reply, snarkily, knowing she can't react as she wants to; but with my hand hovering at her sweet hole she's not thinking of anything but the desire.
I hardly let her process what I've said before I push two fingers up inside her, seating them deep into her hot, wet body.
"Ohhh!" She cries out sharply, arching onto her toes in response.
I grasp her buttock, pulling her back down in order to thrust into her again.
"Jesus…." She moans, her fingers scraping over my hair and my shoulders, seeking the stability of my unwavering frame.
I clench her close to me, pressing my mouth to her hip once more as I pump my fingers into her. My thrusts are sharp and deep, sinking all the way into her before pulling almost all the way out of her trembling body. I know I'm hammering her tender g-spot every single time and I can feel her leaning harder on me after each thrust.
"Oh, god...Olivia…" She moans, her voice garbled with intense pleasure. "Fuck….I fucking hate you…"
I squeeze her ass sharply and slam my fingers into in response, causing her to arch. She's struggling to breath now and I quicken my pace, taking advantage of her unstable position. I feel her going rigid against me, every inch of her taut with the encroaching pleasure, but I'm not done with her yet.
I drag my thumb up over her clitoris, directly over the throbbing bud.
She nearly screams, first arching sharply then bowing against me. Her trembling knees are barely keeping her upright but that hardly gives me a reason to stop. Rather, I hope that she collapses to the floor where I will fuck her even harder into oblivion.
"Liv...Liv...Liv…" She pants with each thrust, her voice straining to elevate into a screech.
"That's right, baby, say my name…" I breathe, invigorated and aroused by her consistent pleading for me. "Come for me, baby…"
"Nnnnggggg….." She groans long, her head tilting back into the wall as I thrust even quicker.
Her thighs strain, her hips digging down against my hand as I work my fingers into her so hard and fast that my arm burns with exertion; but nothing will stop me.
Her fingers clench down on my shoulders, barely holding her upright as she begins to climax. I lift my eyes to watch her face twist and flush with the pleasure. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her mouth wrenched open as she goes rigid. For a long moment, she hardly makes a sound, she barely even breaths, and I can feel her pussy clench from within.
"Yes, baby…." I pant, slamming my fingers into her, relentlessly, scrubbing hard against her swollen sweet spot.
When she finally releases a ragged cry, my head is rushing with arousal, and I can feel my own body quivering, ready to explode at the slightest touch. She bucks against me, her hips driving into my face as the orgasm riddles her body with wave after wave of pleasure.
I know it was an overwhelmingly strong orgasm, but when she begins to come down from it, she doesn't collapse. She whimpers, urging her hips against my hand.
"You want more?" I pant, barely able to breath around my own pleasure and exertion.
"Don't fucking stop." Her voice is raw from screaming and when she glances down at me, her eyes are half lidded and glazed over, as if she's fresh and unfucked.
"Come here." I demand, my body surging with another rush of arousal at the sight of her.
I pull down onto the floor with me, and sink my fingers into her hair. I kiss her hard on her quivering lips and whisper, "On your face. Now."
I hear her breath catch, but in the next moment, she's scrambling to obey me, crawling on hands and knees to present her ass to me. She sinks to the floor, her face pressed to the carpet, her knees pushing her ass up towards me.
"I need more…" She groans as I slide up behind her, gripping one cheek to spread her apart.
"More what?" I ask, dragging my already wet fingers down between her buttocks and to her entrance.
"More fingers…" She whispers, arching harder into my touch. "I need it harder."
I clench my fingers down on the pliant flesh of her ass and close my eyes for half a second in order to grasp at my control. Her words are almost too much for my over sensitized body to take. My panties are soaked through at this point and every tiny sensation incites quivers through my core with the hint of climax.
"Don't worry, baby…." I whisper, pressing my fingers into her once more.
I push two into her body and find her wet and open to my hand, enough for me to slide a third one into her.
"Nnnnggg….." She groans as the three of them push slowly all the way into her.
"Hold on, sweetheart." I murmur, breathlessly, as I begin to thrust, slow and shallow at first.
"Yes…." She moans, pushing back against my hand as my hand quickens. "God, yes….."
Watching her body take my fingers in over and over is almost more than I can take. My crazed desire pleads with me to turn her over and force her mouth against my own aching body, to find release against the plush, red softness of her lips; but I have to see this through. I don't just want to pleasure her. I need too.
I grab her hip and pull her ass up higher, angling her for an even more brutal fucking as my desire works me to my highest point. Bending over her, I hold her steady as I slam my fingers into her waiting body. She arches and struggles beneath me, releasing rapid bursts of curses and strangled cries. I know I'm pushing her, but I'd be damned pleased if she breaks into tears from the sheer pleasure of it.
No one will ever do to her what I can.
I can already feel her tightening down for a second orgasm and I have zero thoughts of keeping it from her. I don't care how long she lasts because as soon as this one ends she'll be that much closer to the next one, and the next one, and the next one….
It seems like mere seconds before she arching beneath me, thrusting back wildly as she comes, releasing wetness onto my fingers in thick gushes. I can feel it slicking the back of my hand and my palm, and the smell of her reaches my nose, heady and sharp. I can almost taste her delicacy on my tongue.
Her voice is so wrought with pleasure that I can barely understand what words manage to make it through the pants and the groans.
She sinks down against the floor again, a string of moans trailing away into nothing. She's panting heavily, ribcage expanding sharply over and over as she tried to breathe.
I extricate my fingers from her throbbing body with a low, satisfied hum and spread my hands over ass. I squeeze her cheeks apart again and tilt my head to gaze at my handiwork - her pussy engorged, flushed a dark pink, and dripping with cum.
She whines and arches away from me, though she can't claim embarrassment when she so recently begged me fuck her with as many fingers as I can.
"I just want to see every inch of you." I whisper.
She groans and pulls herself upright, turning slowly to face me. Her blonde hair is disheveled, wavy tendrils clinging to her flushed face and neck.
"You're so unbelievable." She whispers, rubbing a hand over her face.
"We should take this to the bedroom." I suggest, reaching out to touch her hand.
"Haven't gotten what you wanted?" She demands, suddenly, yanking her hand away from mine.
Disappointment plunges into my stomach, feeling strange and sour on top of my churning arousal, and I sink back. I retract both hands into my lap sigh.
"Not entirely."
"Right." She laughs. "God, I'm so stupid."
"Why are you saying that?" I demand, pushing up from the floor despite the tremor in my legs.
"Because I let you come in here...knowing what's going to happen." She replies, beginning to rise.
Halfway up, I see her legs tremble and sway and I reach out to grab her arm, pulling her up and against me.
"A part of you wants me here…" I murmur, touching her jaw to bring her eyes to mine.
"A part." She repeats, her brow furrowing.
She glances at me for a half a second before looking away. I can see her jaw clenching over and over, her lids fluttering against tears.
"I want all of you." I whisper, leaning in to press my lips to her cheek. "Every single piece of you."
"You know I can't give you that." She returns, her voice thick.
"You could...if you wanted to." I insist, pulling back to look at her. "Amanda, I'm not trying to strip away your individuality or your freedom…"
"Don't you get it?" She asks, pulling away. "A relationship….the one you want...It's a death knell to me. You know how many people ruin their lives for one person that they love more than themselves? Some kind of insanity that trumps self preservation…"
"Do you think I'll somehow destroy you?" I demand, though I try not to let my aggravation show. "I try so hard to love you and to make you happy and you do this to us!"
"This?" She laughs, but I can see a stray tear dash down her cheek. "You came here and fucked me, not the other way around. You said it didn't matter, that we didn't have to talk!"
"Maybe I shouldn't have done that." I begin, though it sounds hypocritical even in my head.
"Maybe?" She mocks me once more and turns away, rubbing her hands over her face. "God….."
I swallow against a knot of frustration and fear and walk slowly to the couch. Sitting down, I lower my head to my hands and stare at the floorboards.
Outside, I can hear the rain hammering against the sides of the building and I feel like a leaf caught in the uproar - weak and brittle, whipped about with hardly any control over myself, helpless to this continuous monsoon of emotions.
"Do you want to break up with me?" I ask at last.
Silence greets my question and I lift my head to see her staring out the window once more.
"Amanda." I repeat, louder.
"What?" She snaps, casting me a shimmering a gaze over her shoulder.
"What do you want from me?" I whisper, spreading my hands. "I feel as if I'm always the one initiating these conversations….so you tell me…. Do you want to be with me? Do you want to continue this?"
Her gaze seems to crumple and she whispers, brokenly, "Don't ask me that."
"That's not fair, Amanda." I shake my head, and purse my lips against the tremble of tears. "Not to me and not to you."
"I told you I was too selfish to be with you." She says, rigidly.
"Do you think by saying that and putting yourself down that you'll drive me away?" I ask, rising from the couch. "I told you I wouldn't leave you….that I won't be just another person abandoning you…"
She groans and turns away, clasping her face in her hands once more.
"I've never fought for someone as hard as I've fought for you." I say through clenched teeth as emotion grips my throat. "God knows, I've had my share of breakups and that I was the one doing the dumping most of the time. But not this time. I won't do it."
I reach her and grab her arms, pulling her around to face me. Her shoulders are shaking with tears and I wrench her hands from her face, forcing our eyes to meet. Everything within me wants to gather her into my arms and wipe away her tears, find some way to make her smile…. But I can't avoid this any longer.
"If you're so unhappy with me, you make the decision." I whisper, my fingers trembling around her wrists. "Say it. Say you're breaking up with me."
She begins to sob, her mouth twisting in anguish, her eyes wrenching shut as she sags against me.
"I can't, I can't!" She cries, gasping hard for breath.
"Say it." I demand, shaking her. "If you hate me...if you hate us...then end it. Right now."
"No!" She shouts, yanking her arms away from hold. "I can't do it!"
"Where's your self preservation, Amanda?!" I ask, my own words hurting me as much as I know they must hurt her, and yet they spill from me, anger and frustration spewing from every syllable.
"Get out." She whispers, stepping back away from me, slowly.
"Call me when you get some balls." I spit, turning towards the door.
"Get the fuck out." She repeats, charging after me.
She shoulders around me, and grabs the doorknob, yanking it open so harshly that it slams into the wall.
"I'm going." I snap, holding up my hands in surrender.
"Go." She snarls, despite my defeat.
I begin to step out and she shoves me hard, causing me to stumble into the darkened hallway, and igniting another explosion of fiery rage in my chest.
"What the fuck?" I demand, spinning around.
The door slams in my face, not even giving me a second to confront her. I march up to the door, spiteful, burning words bubbling up on my tongue. My fists twitch to slam against the door, but staring at the closed door, it suddenly just seems futile.
"Fuck!" I cry out, turning around and pacing down the hall.
I grip my hair in my fists, panting against emotion that suddenly chokes me with cold and desperate hands.
Perhaps I'm all to blame for what has just occurred but it doesn't stop me from being angry and hurt all over again.
I spend several minutes in the hallway, trying to tether together my emotions enough to leave the building and drive home. I know she won't open the door again and I don't try to knock or call out to her.
Finally, I trudge down the stairs and back out into the rain. This time, my trek from the apartment to my car doesn't seem as harrowing as the storm that swirling inside of me. I don't bother to hide myself from the rain pouring down on my head as I cross the street.
I'm cold and shivering but I just can't bring myself to care.
The drive home passes in a blur. I direct the car on autopilot, my brain escaping back to Amanda, to our conversation….to making love to her…
Despair has me in it's grip, and I'm not sure I can cope with it, and so I let myself remember exactly what it had been like kissing her, touching her, fucking her…
By the time I drag myself up the stairs to my apartment, all I can feel is a dark, ravenous arousal eating at my insides.
I know I'm disconnecting from my emotions, but I just don't care.
I leave my clothes in wet, sopping piles on my way to the bedroom and when I reach the mattress, the sheets greet my naked, shivering body with a soft, warm caress. I sink into its plush grip, knowing that here in my own bed I cannot be pushed or shoved or rejected.
Tears sting at my eyes as I shove my hand beneath the sheets, directly to my crotch. Digging my heels into the mattress, I press my lids shut against the hot rush of moisture and adjust my fingertips in the perfect position against my clitoris. I've spent enough lonely nights here in my bed to memorize the exact touch that will bring me immediately into pleasure.
Once the first orgasm comes, I can recede into the abyss of … then sleep…
I sigh out a trembling breath, trying to relax as I drag my fingers against the throbbing bud of flesh. My brows furrow as I strain to focus on the the tightening at the center of my body in quick response. I know I want this, that I have been yearning for release ever since I walked up the stairs to Amanda's apartment - my brain just needs to remember.
Think about her on the floor…. Spread out… taking your fingers….moaning….crying….coming….
I bite down on my lower lip as a rush of pleasure washes over me, my hips arching for half a second against my hand. I try to breathe, but it comes out in a groan as I circle my fingers hard around my clit. My muscles are tightening down, my body eagerly screaming for the pleasure I know that my own hand can offer.
Think about how her pussy looks getting fucked…. Think about her begging for more….
"Ah!" I cry out, softly, but my voice against the empty walls of my apartment echos loudly.
I clench my teeth, pinning my lips together as I rub my hand almost harshly between my legs, seeking after a pleasure that is almost too elusive to be real. I know I can come without her… I don't need her head between my thighs...I don't need her fingers intuitively seeking out every single tender spot inside of me….I don't need her.
My eyes pop open and I stare at the ceiling, breathing heavily.
My body thrums, unsatisfied and raging.
The doom of rejection seems to loom above my head, like a demon on the ceiling, taunting me. I've prepared myself for these reactions many times. I've shut down the feelings in my heart and in my mind because I know what comes with barreling headfirst into love. I always found some way to cut myself off first, to offer a logical explanation for parting ways…. But it always comes to the same conclusion….
Me…. alone….forever…
A second cry breaks the silence, but this time, it's not one of pleasure.
I yank my hand away from myself and cover my face with both palms, breathing sharply against tears. I try to swallow it down, but I only manage to choke.
I thought I could do this… I thought I could do what I've always done, and rip the bandaid off first, but now the panic invades my soul, inundating me with very real implications of this night. It's not just another fight. It's not something we'll sweep under the rug or forget about tomorrow. I don't have the reassurance that we'll always work it out somehow…. All I have is the strangling, arctic grip of fear around my throat and heart.
Sobbing, I roll onto my side and curl my legs up against my chest as I cradle my head in my hands. I know I must look pathetic…. But I just don't care. I cry until my sinuses ache and my forehead throbs. I cry until I'm exhausted and sucked of every ounce of my self control.
It's only then that I drag myself to the edge of the bed and grab my phone from the side table. The LED screen pierces already inflamed eyes, but I squint in order to open my Contacts.
Amanda. She's there at the very top in the As.
I swallow hard, my finger hovering over her name and I vacillate between my ego and my regret. Finally, my horror at the thought of losing her overtakes my reservations and I tap the screen hard, shoving my fear and anger into the motions of dialing.
I bring the phone to my ear and close my eyes as I listen to it ring. I'm not exactly expecting her to pick up right away, although a part of me does hope that she is just as desperate as I am at this point.
Finally, the phone beeps as it turns over to voicemail.
Frustrated, I hang up the phone and immediately call back, hoping that perhaps I will persuade her with persistence, but I'm met again with only the shrill, incessant jangle. I redial and redial again, but by the fourth time, tears have risen in my eyes, demanding to trickle down my cheeks.
I toss the phone down on the bed and slam my fists into the mattress, crying out in both frustration and regret. God, how I wish I could take back those last few moments in her apartment. I would do anything now just to amend even my last sentence…. Anything to save us from complete and utter ruin.
I'm wallowing in self pity when my phone begins to ring, lighting up the ceiling in the darkness of my bedroom. I grasp desperately at the sheets where I tossed it and finally come up with the vibrating device. Squinting against the brightness, I desperately make out Amanda's name on the screen, and relief immediately floods me, though I'm not sure how long it will last.
"Hello?" I breathe, my voice emanating thick and nasally from crying.
At first, dead air crackles in my ear, but then I hear her draw a breath.
"I didn't want to answer." She says at last.
Her tone is stiff but I can sense the war of emotions lying just beneath the thin layer of indifference.
"I know…" I reply, lying back and rubbing my fingers over my forehead. "I'm so sorry…."
"Are you?" She asks. "You want me to say it's over so you don't have to."
I swallow and rub my hand down over my face although she can't even see the flush of humiliation rising on my cheeks. She knows me so well; I can hardly stand it, and yet I expect the utter baring of her soul.
"I don't want it to be over." I whisper. "I want the fighting to be over, but not us…."
"But you were still going to make me say it." She replies, hardly letting me steer to conversation away from what I've done.
"For a moment." I say, clenching my teeth. "I just wanted it to be over in that moment because I was angry."
"I pushed you away so you figured you'd push me as far away as you could…. So far I wouldn't come back." Amanda says, her voice decimating my self defense with every single word. "It's like I said, Olivia…. Self-preservation."
"No…." I whisper, biting back tears. "I love you more than that."
"So you'll destroy yourself instead of letting me do it?" She demands. "I don't see what the difference is."
"The difference is…." I breathe out and open my eyes, glancing towards the window where New York City glows just beyond. "The difference is…. I wouldn't be alone… I'd be with you, and that's never a Fate I'd want to throw away."
She doesn't reply for a long moment, but finally she sighs, "Well, I didn't say it, did I?"
"If I'm telling you to it definitely won't happen." I reply, my mouth almost twisting in a smile at my jab.
"No." She says with a scoff.
Silence falls over the line for a long moment, and I want to reach out to her, but I'm just not sure what to say.
Finally, she murmurs, "Where are you at?"
"In bed…. Where are you?"
"The roof… smoking…"
Another beat of silence.
"What are we going to do?" I ask, quietly.
She sighs, long and deep, "You're asking the wrong person…. I gotta go. I need to think."
"Wait." I insist, sitting up in bed in my haste to stop her from disappearing from between my fingers again.
"I need to think." She repeats. "Can you just let it go for a minute?"
"Not if it means letting you go forever." I whisper, sliding from the bed to pace across the room.
"I don't know why you still say stuff like that or why you still love me." She replies, sounding truly puzzled by my diligence and devotion. "You deserve much more than I can give you."
"Don't go back to that." I plead. "Fuck what I said before…. I just want you...in my arms...safe and happy."
She lets the line crackle for a long moment before she says quickly, "I have to go."
Click. The phone goes dead against my ear, whisking her away as quickly as it brought her to me.
I'm not even sure I have the energy to cry again and all I can do is toss my phone back to the side table and drop into the bed, exhausted. My own fingers wouldn't soothe me, but the simple sound of her voice on my ears, even if only for one uncertain moment, lulls me towards the unconscious existence of sleep that I so desperately want.
A single agonizing day has passed, but to me it seems like a lifetime, entire years wrapped into every single hour that passes without her.
She's not at work. Her personal days which have remained untouched all year are suddenly in effect, leaving me to wonder exactly where she is at and what she is thinking. Is she hoping that I will call again? Is she lying in bed, staring at the ceiling just like I was last night, and fucking hoping beyond hope that this is all a terrible nightmare? I want to believe she misses me, but a doubting voice in the back of my mind asks me to consider that perhaps she really is happier without me, free of monogamous responsibilities and obligations.
I manage to function through the work day, but I know that my heart is not in my job as it usually is. My consciousness is there, directing my actions, holding up the facade of normalcy… but inside, I'm dying.
Making it back home and into the safety and privacy of my own four walls is a relief.
I sink to the couch, kicking my boots off as I lie back in the pillows and cushions. I close my eyes and feel the first wave of tears attempting to break free. I don't want to cry anymore but the strain of acting as if everything is okay has taken a toll on my already aching heart. For a moment, I can hardly control myself, but listening to my own pathetic gasping and sobbing makes me feel even more sick in the pit of my stomach.
Pushing up from the couch, I stumble towards the kitchen. My vision is blurred with tears and I drag my arm across my face to wipe away the evidence of my despair.
I pull the refrigerator open and quickly skim the shelves. I know there's bottle of merlot hiding amongst the disorganized mess. When my watery gaze finds it, I grab it firmly by the neck and carry it to the counter as I begin to search for a wine glass.
I'm acutely aware that this coping mechanism is the worst possible thing that I could do. I've had a drink after work to unwind many times before, but I know this desperate search for oblivion is something far different.
I don't get drunk. The sane part of me whispers. I don't fall to these lows….
Even as the incredulous thoughts cross my brain, I'm pouring the merlot, watching the dark, crimson liquid swirl around the glass, rising higher and higher with each second. I finally top it off and lift the glass, staring the the shifting, scintillating liquid, knowing it holds the promise of relief… and the doom of so much more.
I tremble on the edge of hesitance for half a second, reminding myself that I am breaking every single promise I made to myself since I was a child, since the first time I could remember understanding exactly what my mother was doing when she began to drink.
Do you know how many people destroy themselves for one person that they love more than themselves? Some kind of insanity that trumps self preservation….
Amanda's words dance through my head and I squeeze the glass harder in my fingers, feeling the urge to hurl it across the room. She can't be right…I've always somehow found a way to believe in love, even after all I have been through. I've never wanted to be that jaded, cynical person. I have worked so hard not to be….
She's destroying you…. And you're going to let her…
I lean heavily on the counter on my elbows, lapsing against the cool surface as the emotion grips me once more. My eyes burn for all the tears I have shed, and yet my heart seems so full of many more, an endless supply from a bottomless well of misery. My voice rises against the silence of the apartment, emanating ragged and distraught.
My body wants to sink down to the kitchen floor, and curl up in a ball, but I refuse, clinging to the counter and the glass of wine, the very last shreds of my control over the situation. I lift my head, and the glass blurs and twirls in my vision as I drag it closer.
Pushing myself up, I bring the glass to my lips, though my hand trembles uncertainly. Squeezing my eyes shut, I gulp rather than sip, grimacing against the overwhelming taste as it continuously washes down my throat. Three fourths of glass empties between my lips before I'm forced to stop, coughing and choking over my tears and the onslaught of alcohol. Breathing heavily, I find my breath long enough to toss back the rest of the glass.
My head swims, and I can feel a flush on my cheeks and I reach for the bottle once more. The glass tilts in front of me as I lift it. The bottle feels cold against my heated palm as I pour a second glass and I vaguely wonder why I'm even bothering with the glass. The bottle would do at this point, but maybe I need to remind myself just how many drinks I'm having so that tomorrow I can punish myself for each and every one.
I tilt the glass to my lips again and close my eyes, pulling my focus away from the sharp, alcoholic taste and to my determination to finish. This time, I don't stop until it's empty.
Taking the bottle and glass, I stagger towards the living room, squeezing my eyes against their desire to close languidly. I reach the couch and collapse to the cushions once more. Focusing with a half-lidded gaze, I pour another glass.
Vaguely, I can feel the tears slipping down my cheeks as I take another drink, then another, and another.
Time elongates into nothingness, my awareness melting down to the twirling of my head and the tilting of the room in front of my eyes until I can't keep them open any longer. I strive to stay awake although I have been hoping for this moment since I pulled the wine bottle from the refrigerator. I wanted the abyss of sleep just as I did last night, but this time her voice is nowhere to be found, no soothing Georgian song to cradle me in my sorrow.
I sob even as I slip into unawareness, a dead unconsciousness that swallows me for some indeterminate amount of time until I'm awoke by the rapid knocking on my front door.
Jerking awake, I find myself lying crookedly across the couch, my legs dangling to the floor, one arm still cradling the bottle of wine. I drooling and drunk, a pitiful excuse for coping.
The knocking comes again, harder.
Dragging myself upright, I squeeze my eyes shut against the shifting of the room and try to find my balance to rise. When I open my eyes, I glance my phone lying on the coffee table, the light flashing to alert me of notifications. I snatch it, up and turn on the screen as I push myself to my feet, swaying slightly.
I stop abruptly when I read the screen: ONE MISSED CALL FROM AMANDA
I gasp when the knocking on the door jars me once more. My heart is pounding now with the possibility that she is the one on the other side of the door and I stumble through the kitchen to the sound of the incessant rapping.
"I'm… I'm coming…" I stutter, slamming the wine bottle down on the kitchen counter and hurrying to the door.
All my hopes are caught up in my throat, though fear is not far behind. This could not be what I think it is and yet I dare to imagine.
I struggle with the deadbolt before yanking the door open, breathing heavily.
We come face to face, me staggering and wasted…. Her beautiful and troubled. Her brows are drawn tight, and her hands are clenched into fists. It's a shock seeing her here… It feels as if she has been away from me for much longer than 24 hours.
"Amanda…" I breathe, clutching my phone in one hand and the door knob in the other.
She stares at me for half a second, her gaze raking up and down my body. I know she's taking into account my watery, bloodshot eyes, my rumpled clothes, and disheveled hair. She must be able to smell the wine on my very breath.
"You're drunk." She states in a whisper, her chin dipping with finality.
"I… I had a couple glasses." I manage to rasp, though I can't seem to uproot my feet from the floor to allow her entrance.
"I called and you didn't answer." She says, shaking her head and glancing back down the hallway as if regretting her decision to be here. "I knew something had to be wrong but…."
"You didn't expect this… I know." I return, releasing my grip on the door knob to lift my fingers to my aching forehead.
"Yes, but…" Her tone is softer than I expected as she steps forward to lay a hand on my arm. "I don't blame you."
"What?" I whisper, looking up at her.
She's so close to me. I can see the gloss on her lips, every single eyelash defined in mascara, even the detail of her soft brows… If I squint through the alcohol I might even be able to see the pores of her flesh. I want to collapse against her, drag her close to me and bury my face in the comfort of her chest. I want this moment to be more real than just her concern for my well-being.
"I don't blame you." She repeats with a sigh. "I didn't sleep last night. I smoked. I drank…. Thought about doing things a lot more dangerous."
"You did?" I whisper, lowering my hand from my forehead in order to touch her arm.
She doesn't resist my touch and I wrap my fingers around the warmth of her flesh, the first thing that has felt tangible all day.
"Yes…. and…." She glances away. "I understand if you hate me right now and don't want me here. I wouldn't want me here either-"
"No, no, no." I immediately reply, shoving my phone into my pocket to grab her arms with both hands. "God, no."
"You… don't want to break up with me?" She asks, her lips trembling slightly.
"No, Jesus...I don't." I breathe, pulling in closer and crushing her to my chest.
She doesn't smell sweet or soft. It's cigarettes and alcohol, a day's worth of sweat and heartache, but I don't give a damn. It's her and she's here and she's in my arms. I can feel her trembling against me and I wrap my arms around her, feeling my own tears rising in my throat.
"Do you want to break up with me?" I ask her in a quavering, hushed voice as I press my face to her neck and collarbones.
"No…" She whispers, her voice thready, barely loud enough to hear, but it's all I need to feel utter relief and joy flood my chest.
"Fuck, I was so scared." I cry into her chest.
We stumble back against the door, slamming it shut as I press against her in need. She feels so damn good in my arms, like the brightest, warmest burst of sunlight upon my face that I have ever felt. I want to keep wrapping my arms around her tighter and tighter just to feel her closer, but we're as close as possible and it's still not enough.
"I was scared too." She mumbles, her voice quivering with tears as she winds her arms around my neck and cradles my head close to her heart. "I've been scared before… but never like that."
"I'm so, so, so sorry." I whisper, vehemently, clenching my arms around her waist once more.
"So am I." She returns, and the passion and sincerity in her voice devours any question I may have had.
"What made you change your mind?"
"I just realized how horrible life would be without you." She whispers, her voice echoing all of the pain and emptiness that last two days have heaped upon her.
"My life would be horrible without you too." I say, dragging my face up against her neck and pressing my lips to her soft flesh.
She moans softly as my lips part against her neck, imparting a long, tender kiss along her pulse. I gather her close and kiss her neck again, my ears rejoicing at the sound of her sweet groans as my mouth works up her jaw and to her ear.
"I'm never going to lose you again." I whisper in her ear, my breath rushing hot over her flesh before I tug her lobe into my mouth.
"Mmmm…" She moans, her fingers dragging over my shoulders. "Never again…"
I slide one hand down her back and push my fingers beneath the edge of her shirt to find bare flesh. My fingers tingle at the very sensation of her bare skin against mine and I spread my entire hand over her back, pleased to find no bra or barrier in my quest across the plane of her shoulder blades.
"Olivia…" She breathes my name, causing another rush of warmth to fill me. "Let's not do this here….I want you in bed."
I barely curb a moan at her confirmation of both of our desires, although I am bereft at the thought of pulling myself away from, even for a minute.
"Please." She insists, pushing at my shoulders until I glance up at her. "I want to give you whatever you want after all I've put you through."
"You're all I want." I murmur, leaning in to kiss her lips.
"Mmm." She hums against my lips, though she doesn't let it last long. "What I said still stands…. I'll fuck you anyway you want...I'll get down on my knees and lick you all night if that's what you want."
I shiver against her at her passionate desires and descriptions. Somewhere beyond the alcohol, the logical part of me knows that sex won't fix everything we've just put ourselves through, but the self-sacrificing tone of her voice allows me to ignore logic. Tomorrow we'll find some way to reconcile what's been done and said, but for tonight all I want is her - against me, inside me, all over me - to fill this aching gap that has yawned between us.
"Come on." She whispers, pushing away from the door.
She grabs my hand and pulls me towards the bedroom. Her hand holds me steady despite my swaying and I follow after her. Watching her enter the bedroom ahead of me, I'm struck again with the surreal feeling that this cannot possibly be real, but here she is, holding my hand, promising me everything in the world and more.
"Lie down." She whispers, gesturing towards the bed.
I swallow hard as I sit down at the edge and slowly lower myself onto my back. I watch her above me, stripping off her jacket in quick, determined motions. My body clenches deep inside of me and I drag unsteady hands to the front of my pants, struggling to unzip and unbutton them. By the time I'm halfway done, her hair is tied back in a messy knot and her shirt is stripped off.
"Oh, god…" I whisper, my eyes rolling up towards the ceiling as she kneels down in front of me and fits her fingers beneath the waistband of my pants.
She strips my clothes from my lower half before gripping the backs of my thighs and pulling me close to the edge of the bed. I gaze down the length of my body at her as she slides her hand beneath my buttocks and lowers her head against my crotch.
"Ohhhh…." I whimper, my breath trembling from my lungs as her lips touch me, warm and soft.
She doesn't have to tell me spread my legs apart as she ducks down lower, her tongue reaching out to drag up between my swollen labia. I can already feel myself throbbing, but I know it's going to be nothing compared to how I will ache when she's done with me.
Clenching my fingers into the sheets, I close my eyes and fix my twirling brain on the sensation of her tongue dragging up against my clit. My entire body clenches with the sensation, my back straining to arch in response to the utter pleasure of it.
She's going slow, but I don't mind. After the agony of the past two days, I won't regret a single moment spent with her, nor eagerly rush one where she adores me so. I let her tease me, moaning loudly each time the pleasure rises to an almost unbearable plateau. I don't complain even as she keeps me from release a half a dozen times or more. I arch and writhe in the steady grip of her hands, gasping, then nearly crying as the climax ebbs at the edge of my brain and body.
Her mouth works slow and soft at first, before her she asserts her tongue, unwavering and firm against my clit. She brings me up fast, having me shaking and taut at the final moments before orgasm before sucking sharply away.
I'm panting and moaning, flushed and sweating, but I don't beg her to stop. I don't even beg her to finish me. I'm crazed for her and only her, and if this is what she wills upon me I will take it with the stain of blessed tears upon my cheeks. It isn't malice that she works upon me, only adoration, and I would be a fool to despise this worship.
I have no sense of time, and the aching, unending throb of my body takes over every single property of my being. I'm swallowed whole in the pleasure until every single second is climactic explosion in and of itself. Every fiery touch of her tongue ignites pleasure in my belly, and by the time the orgasm seizes me, every particle of my flesh is alive and screaming.
I buck up against her, my eyes rolling back sharply into my head as the pleasure spears through my gut, yanking every single muscle rigidly tight. I tear at the sheets as my mouth stretches open, but at first I can hardly even cry out. My breath is caught so sharply in the pleasure that has me writhing uncontrollably across the bed that crying out is secondary reaction, something that tears from my throat involuntarily.
She doesn't let me go as I jerk and flail beneath her. Her mouth rides me to the very end and even after when I'm twitching and panting from the force of it. Finally, I twist away from her, unable to take any more sensations on my throbbing, engorged flesh.
I find myself gasping, my chest convulsing in tears as she crawls up onto the bed, hovering over my body with a look of both pleasure and adoration on her face. I reach my arms out for her and she sinks down against me, covering me with the devotion of her body as we wind ourselves together once more.
"I'm done being selfish." She whispers to me. "I don't ever want last night to happen again."
"Me neither." I whisper, my voice choked and raspy.
She's quiet for a moment before she murmurs, "I was wrong."
"It's ok, I forgive you." I whisper, passionately, petting my hands over her back.
"No, I mean… I was wrong about what I said." She pulls back slowly to look into my eyes. "Being with you… caring about you… isn't destroying me. Leaving you wouldn't be self-preservation….Coming back to you was."
Tears rise sharply in my eyes and I pull her back down quickly to dig my face into neck and hair.
"I love you." I whisper, my voice trembling.
"I love you too." She whispers. "More than anything."
I close my eyes and sink into the feeling of her body wrapping tightly around mine, her heart beating sure and steady against my ear.
I'm home.