"There are days when outside your window
I see my reflection as I slowly pass,
and I long for this mirrored perspective
when we'll be lovers, lovers at last.
You gotta spend some time, Love.
You gotta spend some time with me.
And I know that you'll find, love
I will possess your heart."
- Death Cab for Cutie, 'I Will Possess Your Heart'
Emily
It fucking sucks to wake up cold, shameful, and alone in your own bed.
He's not here. I unconsciously expected him to be here, although I've only woken up to him at my side just once. But for some reason, I've rationalized that this time I should wake up to his arms around me and his inky black hair tickling my cheek.
However, there's a lingering scent that's so distinctly him wafting around my bedroom. So maybe he was here earlier. But that doesn't matter because he's not here now.
Why am I acting like this? So needy and wanting like one of those child pageant stars. Gimme my false eye lashes. I want another stick of pageant crack.
"You're so weak you have to rely on other people."
When did I become so fucking soft? Where's my backbone? Did I leave it back in Boston, buried alongside all of my rationality?
God, I could use a fucking cigarette. Luckily, I keep an emergency pack hidden in a pair of Betsey Johnson socks in my bedside drawer.
As I reach over to the nightstand, my back aching and my head swimming, I notice wrappings of bandages around my wrists, dotted with specks of blood from wounds I don't remember receiving.
The last thing I can make out besides trying to fucking murder myself-What? No, that thing isn't me. Ugh, you get what I mean.- is bright light, the blurred edges of bodies standing over me yelling, and my own shallow breathing in my chest. There was no time limit in those moments. For all I know it felt like anywhere from five seconds to two hours. However long my momentary consciousness was, I blacked out after.
God, and everyone fucking saw the monster living inside of me.
All I can do it just stare at the blots of blood on my wrists as if they're some Rorschach tests. They look like butterflies. All fucking Rorschach tests look like squashed butterflies to me.
"If you're looking for that pack of Marlboro's I threw them out. You need better hiding places."
Kenji, who I've been nothing but a huge burden to since day one.
I yank my hand away from where it froze midair to pull back the drawer of my bedside table. "Hey I don't go rummaging through your collection of manga even though I known there's plenty of hentai in there," I'm not going to bother looking to the doorway of my bedroom to stare daggers at my cousin, instead I'll turn my gaze to the numbers of my digital clock. "Four o'clock, huh? Please tell me its still Thursday."
I hear Kenji's heavy footsteps come closer to me. "It's Friday afternoon. I convinced Professor Stein you'd much rather wake up in your own bed than in the infirmary." The edge of my bed dips and I see his royal purple hoodie out of the corner of my eye.
"So I've been conked out for over twenty four hours? How delightful." God I bet people who have been run over by semi-trucks feel better than I do right now. I could go for a good cracking of the back or even a punch to the face.
I sniff the air again. "Was Kid here earlier? I can smell that cologne he always wears." Drakaar, I think it's called. Ladies, slip off your panties. At least it doesn't smell like tobacco and self loathing.
I feel Kenji shift. "He left at around one in the morning. I told him I'd call when you woke up." He sounds overly cautious and I fucking hate it.
My spine is tingling. Maybe it's just the track of bruising I gave myself in that death chair. "So, what happened? I don't remember much past telling Lucy to remind me to give her back her copy of Sylvia Plath poetry."
I wonder how she's doing. God, if she put herself into another coma I'm going to throw myself out of the damn window. From what it looked like, she let herself be succumbed with madness. So much for the 'accept who you are and you can move on' crap she gave me, not that I ever took her literal word for it in the first place. I've seen plenty of people full of the insanity fever. They're like psychopaths who've been dropping acid. Then again, I've got the whole Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde thing going for me. God only knows what would happed if I gave myself over to that kind of madness. It's been hard enough fighting it off on a regular basis. Honestly, I don't know if I can handle it getting to that point again.
I don't have to look at Kenji to know the kind of face he's making right now. He has such a loud demeanor for such a well put together guy. "You were talking backwards within two minutes and then you started convulsing. I passed out after that so I don't know what happened after."
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK.
It was so disgusting to watch that he couldn't even stay conscious. My pride, it burns in the depths of hell.
My fingers are twitching. All I want to do is go back to sleep or just pass out again. If I do that I can subject myself to all the punishment my head can dish out. I feel weak. I should probably shower or eat first though.
Or at least get rid of the nagging feelings in the pit of my stomach.
"I'm sorry."
Kenji looks like hell to say the least. His dirty brown hair is sticking up on its ends like he's been unconsciously tugging fistfuls of it. There are dark half moons sagging under the rims of his glasses, so apparently he's been up for as long as I've been asleep.
He's looked better sitting up all night in front of the television playing videogames.
I feel about as awful as he looks.
"I've done nothing but drag you through all the shit I've put myself in and it's not fair that you have to put yourself in the position of cleaning up my messes. I pulled you down with me and it kills me. You never should have had to see any of that stuff back there," My eyes drop to look at my entangled fingers, twitching with nerves and pent up emotion. "Look at yourself Kenji. You've kept yourself awake worrying over me. This isn't how a partnership should work."
I'd feel so much better if I had the butt of a cigarette to roll between my index finger and thumb. I'm starting to get that nagging feeling of nicotine withdrawal buzzing along my guts.
"I was starting to get used to you shutting up about all your teen angst." Kenji shifts closer to me, leaning down to try to catch my eyes. No, I don't want to look at you.
"I'm a burden. Haven't you had enough of all my bullshit?" God I detest having to wallow in my own self pity if it weren't for the satisfaction I get knowing that I deserve to treat myself like crap. I'm such a masochist.
My nail polish is chipping off. I should probably repaint my nails before any more flakes off. That would drive Kid insane.
My eyes are starting to water up, blurring the edges of my vision into spots of bleeding colors.
"Jesus Christ Em, will you cut it out?" Kenji's arms wrap around me and he pulls me into his chest, just like he used to do when we were little. Even back then I was a handful. I'd get myself involved in other people's problems because of my inflated sense of righteousness. Kenji would have to pull me close to him before I started kicking sand in the other kid's faces for taking some poor little boy's Tonka Truck. I was always flush faced growing up, and that was why.
"You're like my little sister! I know what you're doing to yourself and it's a ton of bull. I'm supposed to worry. I'm the only person capable of putting yourself in your place. What, you think I'm sick of dealing with the things you do? Do you think I'd rather have a different meister? Is that it?"
Kenji Keechi everyone; hitting the nail on the head since forever.
A tear drop runs down and over the swell of my cheek before slipping beneath my jaw-line. Why am I working myself up over all those things she said?
Psychological trauma is one of worst killers of humanity's sense of themselves.
Kenji sighs, knowing full well my response to his questions. After all, he does know me better than anyone else in the world aside from your truly. "Em you put way too much stress on yourself, you know?"
I pull away from him, wiping my cheeks with the backs of my hands. "And you worry about me too much." My legs feel hot so I pull off my comforter. Oh wonderful, I'm wearing the same clothes.
"I hate seeing you like this not because 'I'm responsible for you' but because you're my family. It sucks that you have to deal with something so shitty." Kenji gets up and off the side of my bed, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his hoodie.
It's all so melodramatic.
As Winona Ryder said in Heathers, "Dear Diary, my bullshit teen angst has a body count."
"How's Lucy?"
Kenji shrugs. "She only passed out for twenty minutes from what Thurston told me. He seemed pretty freaked out by it though. They stopped by this morning with some flowers and Thurston finally paid me back that two hundred dollars he owed me. Lucy dropped off your school work about a half hour ago too."
"So you didn't go to school?" I hook a stray piece of hair behind my left ear.
"You'd have been pretty angry if you woke up alone."
Once again, Kenji being right about all sorts of things.
With as much care as I can manage, since I have no clue if I'm going to collapse face first on to the carpet, I slide off the bed, supporting my weight on the edge of the mattress with my arms. I feel sore all over and the numbness in my legs has almost completely faded away from its pinpricking, cramping sensation. Kenji moves to offer his hand to help me up, which I shoo him from as I manage to hobble up and stand.
"I'm gonna take a shower," I'm pretty good at hiding the limp in my steps as I make my way to the door. "Call Kid. I really should have a talk with him."
"Liz told me she'd never seen him more upset in his life. He was about ready to kill Professor Stein apparently." I pause for a moment and lean up against the doorway.
He wasn't here when I woke up.
"I can make my own decisions you know, and I'm doing this."
It still sounds ugly in memory.
As much as I want to take the harshness of it back, there's still truth to it. The possessive looks and the way it feels like he's trying undress me with his eyes. It's stifling to be under such a hunger. I'm not an object. But God, I knew he wasn't going to take it well from the moment Stein proposed his plan. I can see it now. That hunger over taking him and that usually well kept demeanor, turning him into a snarling beast or an emotional wreck. I should probably have him clarify which one it was.
My fingers tighten around the wooden threshold I've been clinging onto. "Again, I should really have a talk with him," I huff out a sigh, my shoulders relaxing from where I've kept them stiff up past my neck. "You should probably get some sleep by the way. I bet I don't look half as bad as you do right now."
Under normal circumstances I could laugh at my own snarky joke.
But my chest feels like it's recovering from caving in.
Kid
It's all that has been on my mind all day.
It's like folding the toilet paper or angling the picture frames; that type of pestering sensation that overshadows any ability to focus upon anything else.
I rest my forehead up against the hardwood of the now familiar apartment door as I hurriedly beat my knuckles in a succession of demanding knocks. If I were on the other side of the door I'd think myself rude most likely.
I cannot help it though. My heart is a flurry in my chest and anxiety has its leathery grip about my neck.
Please, open up.
A shaky breathe escapes overtakes me exhale. I ran all the way here, only realizing midway through my sprinting that I should have taken Beelzebub. Now there's a sheen of sweat coating my forehead and wrapping itself beneath my collar. I must look quite disheveled and unbalanced, even after managing to smooth my hair out to a satisfactory appearance.
The familiar patter of footsteps draws closer on the other side of the door, followed quickly by the twist of a lock.
I stand back as the door pulls back.
Relief quakes in my body.
"Hey." Emily's voice is soft as her eyes trail down to the floor. Judging by the towel dry dampness of her hair and the blotches of red blooming against her skin, she must have just gotten out of the shower moments before.
Speaking of which, she's clad in nothing but a lavender bathrobe. This could be a mood killer.
My lips feel dry and the pit of my stomach warms with the now too familiar sensation of arousal. "Are you….are you naked under that?" I wish I could lie and say I did not lick my lips or produce a sparkling gleam in my eyes. I really wish I could lie.
With an over accentuated eye roll, she pulls back the robe-And oh hell all the despicable things that are racing through my head right now-to reveal a plain black tank top and heather grey shorts that hug the flesh of her upper thighs quite snuggly. Very snugly.
She doesn't say anything. Rather, she lets out an exaggerated groan before closing her bathrobe back up, and thus ending my seconds of lustful day dreaming to both my relief and annoyance.
In reality, I don't want to spend too much time thinking. I want to refrain from letting my mind wander into yesterday's memories. They were all I thought of as I stroked Emily's cheeks and brushed my fingers through her hair as she lay in bed unconscious and unaware of soft touches. I was too emotionally exhausted to even contemplate allowing my tear ducts to employ themselves. I simply just sat, caressed, and stared mindlessly until Kenji advised I go home for the night.
"How are you feeling?" Once I again I have turned to asking idiotic inquiries.
She turns on the heel of her bare foot, urging me to follow her down the length of the apartment to her bedroom. "I could really go for a cigarette, but Kenji tossed the emergency pack I stashed in my bedside table," She truly does sound fatigued, even after sleeping for over the course of an entire day. "I sort of feel like I woke up from one of those emotionally draining, anxiety filled dreams I guess."
"Did you have any nightmares?" We round the corner down the narrow hallway and walk into her room, heading towards her bed to take a seat.
"I think I was too unconscious to do any dreaming, or at least remember anything." She settles herself by her stack of throw pillows, sitting cross legged and watching carefully as I sit myself down on the end of the bed.
I have never really taken notice of how different Emily looks without all the eyeliner and the stain of red painted on her lips. She looks younger; less hard edged, softer. Not that I prefer one over the other, but both are equally enticing in their own ways.
But without the makeup I can clearly see the sallow shade her skin has taken and the blueish-purple smudges signifying exhaustion under her eyes.
She's convulsing and pulling against the straps. Blood is smudged along her finger tips. I was the first person to run into the observation room, fully ignoring Stein's claims that it still wasn't absolutely safe to go in. I ripped away at the restraints, horrified to see the lines of blood seeping from her wrists and the bruising along her ankles. Her breathing was shallow as I cradled her to my chest, the raw wrath built up in my chest only held back by the desire to have her safe in my arms.
For a moment I could have sworn her eyes fluttered open.
And here she is now, awake and thankfully appearing to be alright. But for all I can estimate, she's a pile of emotional chaos on the inside.
"You weren't here when I woke up."
My lungs feel winded for a moment. Either it's the offset effect of running across town or the shameful guilt that has taken away my breath.
"I apologize. Kenji advised I should go home and sleep at around one in the morning," My eyes roam along the fold of her left leg unconsciously before I tear my heavy gaze away to look respectfully into her eyes. "I wanted to stay and be here when you woke up. I troubled you, didn't I?"
It's quite unusual for Emily to be so quiet. In the time it's taking her to nod in response, she could have spewed out a good three lines of sarcastic jabs.
It pains me to see her like this.
What happened in her head? What has her looking so distressed? If I ask I am positive she will turn away to wallow in silence.
And the conversation continues to drag like a funeral procession.
"Kenji told me you didn't react well. What did you do?"
I shift uncomfortably. "I suppose I became enraged so to say." Soul still has some bruising along his ribs from where I kept punching him in an effort for him to release me. Black Star's headlock still lingers around my neck with every creak a turn of my head receives. Speaking of which, I should probably make an appointment with a chiropractor in the next few days.
"So to say? Kenji told me you almost murdered Stein and turned into some insane, ravenous, mama grizzly." Ah, finally the flash of biting attitude I have been missing in the tone of voice and the narrowing of her eyes. Conversation with her just isn't the same without it. Good to see she didn't traumatize herself past the point of personality.
"Alright, so it took both Black Star and Soul to keep me from savagely attacking our Professor and putting an end to that whole hellish experiment," I really disdain having to abandon my normally serene and put together demeanor in favor of all these extreme emotions I have been on the edge with these days. "You should never have had to participate in such a reckless experiment, even if there was no other way to go about gaining more insight into the enemy! Don't undervalue your safety like that ever again!"
Yet again, my emotions have taken on a life of there own, no longer just provoked by the asymmetrical or the unbalanced. Of course, it is an expected side effect of the Grim Reaper mating habits to be overly enamored with emotion. It's a more sophisticated way of going into heat than grinding against the nearest leg in sight.
By the way Emily's narrowed eyes darken their gaze at me, I suppose it is safe to assume she isn't particularly fond of my emotional outburst.
However, and as I have indeed learned that the unpredictable does happen more often that one would guess, her hard focus softens on me with a heavy sigh. Well, this is quite new. I was fully prepared to engage in our first 'lover's quarrel' so to say.
"While we're on that tangent, I didn't tell Kenji to call you over here just so we could fondly bond over my teen angst or your desire to sue a certain mad scientist for malpractice. I actually have something to talk to you about," Emily begins rubbing at her temples, trying adamantly to ward off some oncoming stress headache. "And it has to do with those less than pleasant last words I left you with."
Oh.
"I'm not just yours to protect. You said you'd do anything to help me, didn't you? I can make my own decisions you know, and I'm doing this."
The fire of passion that has since been building up in my chest steadies at the turn of conversation. Those words have been nagging at me a considerable amount in the last twenty four hours. It's probably in my best interest for me to listen.
"I know my choice to put myself in that kind of position seemed like-you know what I'm not even going to bothering using some fancy shmancy word- bullshit to you, but maybe it was also a sort of retaliation to the weird way you've been acting for the past week along with my insatiable desire to punish myself?" She pulls her copper eyes away from their locked gaze, and I believe I see the faint hint of a blush developing in her cheeks. "I don't want to be anyone's responsibility, and that leads me to my point. You've been getting…possessive? No, I'm just going to put it in the clearest terms possible so I don't have to explain this any further," Oh hell, I've never seen her appear so flustered. "Kid, lately you've been looking at me like you're dying to drag me to the nearest supply closet and screw my brains out
Oh.
"We've only been a couple for about a week and it's not exactly thrilling to be looked at like a five course meal."
Wonderful. Great going Kid. You just couldn't completely hold back from slobbering with raging testosterone and swimming in your own libido.
I throw my face into the palms of my hands, too embarrassed to even just turn away. "I think I ought to have explained a thing or two about the sexual nature of Grim Reapers…"
I could bolt for the door. I could throw myself out the window. I could crawl into a fetal position. All of these are quite plausible responses to awkwardness of this all.
I told you the range of emotional responses to be found in Reapers in the midst of sexual awakening are quite bipolar.
From the sliver of space between my fingers, I make out the taken aback expression gracing Emily's soft features. And that faint hint of a blush has now evolved into a full burn of redness across her cheeks.
Sex talk with my father has proven awkward enough. Now this is just frightening.
Taking her silence as my cue to go off into an explanation, I huff a sigh and drag my hands off of my face. "Grim Reapers possess, well, we possess much more powerful sexual libidos than humans. In mating habits, we tend to become protective and lustful following first intimate contact with a prospective partner."
I could be flat lining on an operating table and the face she gives me could produce a final beep on the heart monitor due to its utter indifference. "Are you saying that little moment of fooling around Friday afternoon turned you into a sex craving weirdo?"
Does she have to put things into such harsh terms? "While those are not the terms I find the most sensitive to the topic, in a way, yes, you were the catalyst."
What I would give to go home and organize both Liz and Patti's closets into color and style coordination.
But I suddenly feel the bed dip as I notice Emily crawling her way towards me. Boldness has always been a forte of hers I suppose, that is, when she does not intend to play fair. "So even all that creepy stalking you did the first week we met was just your weird natural behavior of sexual attraction?"
I'm not in the mood to suffer from her wrath if I enlighten her that part of that behavior was on the behalf of my father's request I keep an eye out on her. "Along with my own piqued interest in you, yes."
A heavy moment of silence falls between us.
Human and Reaper relationships should never be this awkward.
"So, want to enlighten me on some more fun facts about the sexual natures of Grim Reapers?"
It suddenly appears that I have reverted to manually breathing. Hormones are raving and a certain area of my body is beginning to express interest in changing its angle.
I account my ability to hold back from acting upon physical desires in favor of hungry looks and spinning real time fantasies to my gentlemanly upbringing. Reaper nature is powerful, but the limits of what is considered socially acceptable in courtship are all the reason I need to painfully hold back on every need my body craves.
"Well…you see…"
Perhaps it is due to all the built up extremes of emotion I have attained over the last twenty four hours. Maybe the teasing hint in her voice is to blame. Then again, the dampness of her hair and the smell of sweet pea soap wafting off of her skin is enough to send my thoughts into over drive.
She's narrowing her eyes at me. Those beautiful, hypnotizing eyes like liquid copper I wish to be cast in and remain statuesque for an eternity. It is all simply too much to put into words for her to understand.
Her gaze faithfully follows as I slowly and cautiously place my hand over her thigh.
The exact instant the heel of my hand presses against her flesh she flinches from underneath like a static shock. "AH!-Christ Kid, you're burning up!" Emily barely suppresses the yelp that passes through her lips at the sensation of my hot touch stinging the soft skin of her thigh. Despite the look of complete and utter shock transcribed across her soft features, she is not making any move to push of pull away from the tremendous source of heat.
I give the flesh a soft squeeze-and oh the muffled squeak I hear that she will never own up to is the most pleasing thing to my ears-!-wishing to fuse myself with it. "They're called 'Heat Fevers'. After we initiated sexual contact-"
"Wah-you didn't even get off second base! Fuck, your hand is hot."
Stubborn as always my dearest, aren't you? "Fine. 'Sexual awakening' then. After a 'sexual awakening', Grim Reapers develop the strong urge to fulfill a sexual appetite with a mate. Symptoms include increased libido, mood swings, mood extremities, and-" I quickly move my other hand to clasp at her round, flushed cheek, her eyes going wide and feral at the sensation of such burning heat. "Significant increases in body temperature during increased arousal."
She winces, brows knitting together. But it isn't discontent or disapproval I see in her eyes. Rather, what I see is a challenge to my claims. "Usually human guys just settle for porn and they're good. Nice to know you require more 'hands on' approaches."
As my hands silently slide upwards to pull Emily's bathrobe past her shoulders, she leans forward to place her chin on my shoulder, pressing her cheek to my neck. Damn, she smells so delectable, like engorged fruit and blossoms at dusk.
"Is it bad that even though I don't like it when you're overly involved in my personal affairs that I want you to stay by my side?" The sudden solemn tone her voice has taken surprises me somewhat. Her body goes lax against me and I can distinctly feel the beating of her heart in her chest. "It's just one huge contradiction, isn't it?"
"No, I understand what you're tying to convey, and it isn't necessarily a bad thing," I whisper into her ear, nuzzling my face into her hair as my fingers drag across her bare shoulder blades. "You desire a relationship but you're afraid of becoming dependent."
"Bullshit, I'm not afraid. And do you have to pant in my ear?" I suddenly detect her left leg sliding past to hook around me. The fever within is spiking and with every second that passes it's harder and harder to retrain from natural impulses.
I gaze down past her back for a moment. What isn't blanketed by thick red hair is encased in clothing, too much for my taste at the moment, save for a band of tantalizing pale skin between the hem of her top and the waist band of her shorts. I see the indents of her lower back and the swell of waist, so tempting that I can't help but place a hand to that partially exposed area. "Prove it then."
No sooner do these words leave my mouth than I feel her lips crushing against mine with such purpose that it's almost as if she's trying to crawl into my mouth.
Emily
Adolescence is basically composed of one really exhausting internal battle between two opposing forces; unbridled angst and the need to get laid.
While any sensible person would make the point that I'm both in no state to be engaging in sexual activity and that it's all moving way too fast for anything to end well. But aren't our teenage years centered around the stupid and reckless decisions we make? Haven't I made enough mistakes to last me a lifetime?
I still can't say in full confidence that another mistake to be added to the pile I've so far collected won't make that big of a difference.
It doesn't really feel like a mistake when Kid slides my tanks top up and over my head, only pausing briefly to fold it neatly to the side. No matter how sexually charged he may be, I guarantee you, he'd in no way be able to get off if he saw a single sock lying crumpled on the floor. I bet he could be getting the best hand job in the world and he would have to pry the chick's mouth off of him to fold the sock and find its twin.
His mouth descends to suck on my collar bone while I feel his hands pull at my chest.
I catch an upside down glimpse at the right corner of my bedroom. All of my band posters and the FLCL poster Kenji gave me for my birthday have become a wall of voyeurs.
I always attract an audience, even the two dimensional kind.
"Emily?"
The spot along my collar bone Kid has busied himself with marking with tongue and teeth suddenly feels cold as his mouth departs. He fingers the under wire of my bra's right cup. Speaking of which, I really had to choose the one bra I own made out of material thin enough to show what I think of the cold draft in the room, didn't I?
"I want to…can I?...would you mind if?..." He pants between pauses, looking at me with such focus that I'm suddenly starting to feel like some kid's science project. Even though he can't complete his sentences, it's not because he's embarrassed or flustered. Sure, there's a little bit of that in there, but it probably has more to do with what's poking the inside of my right thigh.
I look at Kid. Then to my FLCL poster. Kid. Poster. Guy with a boner on top of me. Anime audience.
If I'm going to start making this a common activity between the two of us, I want it to go my way. Sorry buddy, knowing you you'll probably break a blood vessel trying to figure out how to unhook my bra and then I'll have to console you for twenty minutes and by that time I'll be too focused on getting something to eat than heavy petting. I still haven't eaten in over twenty four hours.
I lightly push Kid to get off as I shift to a sitting position. "We both know you'll only drive yourself insane trying to take it off of me." My finger tips feel cold as they brush over the skin of my back, and a shiver runs down my spine. One hook, two, three. See you later bra.
Whatever lingering sensation of self consciousness that was making me all tense in the muscles and bones completely goes away when Kid's expression goes from impatiently expectant to…
"They're…they're…perfectly symmetrical!"
Do you think I'm kidding?
I'd like to groan or shake my head but holy shit there are hands on my boobs, there are hands on my fucking boobs. Oh Christ he's weighing them in his hands and…fuck that felt nice and I really hope he wasn't paying attention to that noise I made.
Please don't misjudge me as either a silly little virgin or a giant stark raving slut.
Before this moment all I had was Cain, which I regret every minute of. In the best terms possible, he was selfish, and that probably had to do with who he really was instead of the 'rebel without a cause' I mistook him for.
It was always what he wanted and what made him happy. I was just another one of his hands; just another disposable human being like the prostitutes and the drug dealers and the homeless. There was never anything more to those touches, even though I tried so hard to convince myself what I wanted was there.
But right now, everything is gentle, slow, and personal. All I'm familiar with is rough, fast, and distant.
Kid's hands fall away briefly so that he can shuck off his blazer, his eyes hard focused on what I am positive are my nipples (Kind of like those gag shirts you get on boardwalks that say 'Tell Your Boobs to Stop Staring at My Eyes'). "Damn Emily, you're breathtaking," His tongue pokes out to swipe over his bottom lip and the fronts of his teeth, and I'd be lying if I didn't say that didn't prompt some kind of reaction out of me. "How I admire the symmetry of the human body!"
"I swear to God buddy, if you go into an eight minute rant about the rare wonder of breast symmetry I'll shove my bra so far down your throoooooooooooooaaa-ahhhhhhhhhhh."
Oops, sorry. What I meant to say was, 'I swear to God buddy, if you go into an eight minute rant about the rare wonder of breast symmetry I'll shove my bra so far down your throat you'll be shitting Victoria's Secret coupons until Black Friday' but Kid just had to dive forward and suckle my nipple into his mouth like nobody's business. A heads up would have been appreciated.
He chuckles lightly, since he can't speak very well considering how his mouth is pretty full at the moment, and my body vibrates from the hum on his lips.
All I can process doing at the moment is pulling myself closer to him and holding tight to the roots of his hair. I hope he gets a headache in the morning. God, his mouth is so hot.
"F-fuckkkk y-y-youuuu." Obviously, this doesn't come out sounded as threatening as I hoped it would. Instead it sounds like my voice box is being dragged away down a deep cave.
I feel teeth softly tug at my nipple and I can't think of a scientific explanation as to how in the hell anyone's tongue can be so hot. Kid really meant it when he mentioned that whole 'going into heat' business I guess.
That familiar sensation I felt in my core when I became the voyeur to my dream-self's deflowering is beginning to make itself known. Any thought of guilt that was about to float through my head at the memory dissipates as I feel Kid's thumb swipe over my other breast, mischievously stalling in one particular spot to mirror how he's using his tongue, lips, and teeth. Spoiled, smug, sly bastard who's got the wonderful gift of oral fixation oh bless you all that is good in the world.
Seconds drag like the teeth and the tip of his tongue. My hands tighten in his hair and I'm burying my face in his shoulder to muffle the noises escaping my mouth into his dress shirt. I bit down on the collar flap. It tastes like his cologne.
Kid finally pulls off, readjusts, and moves onto my other breast. As if he'd leave anything half finished. I don't know if that's a good thing because I'm starting to feel about ready to burst from the inside out.
He trails a finger lightly up the side of my stomach, and shit, I just squeaked. Smug asshole picks up on it so now he's just brushing up and down strokes with his fingernails.
My body feels so heavy and coiled tightly in the inside. The tension inside clenches deeper and deeper by the second and it's like being pulled up from a bottomless pit by a string. Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK. Teeth again. But it's so careful and cautious. There's no threat of the string he's holding me by snapping so that all I'm going to e left with is stinging disappointment and frustration.
It's coming so quickly and I can't stop it. I'm powerless against it. But somehow it's just so liberating even though it's so dependent on him. I'm bouncing against his leg but there's no way I've achieved so much ground already just pretending to be one of those humping Chihuahua gag gifts.
His touch is just burning against my flesh in the nicest way possible.
I'm invincible. Nothing can hurt me. I'm free falling but I'm not going to splatter dead all over the pavement. I'll land completely whole and alive, all my guts and teeth in my body where they belong and not scattered over a five hundred foot radius.
I can't believe it.
No way.
He knows what's happening, and I feel the corners of his mouth upturn in a grin as he sucks a little harder, not enough to hurt but enough to prove he knows exactly what he's doing.
That's all it takes.
My teeth clench around his collar, my tongue rutting against the fabric as a whimper of a scream vibrates in me throat. My hands clench and unclench as my body folds up to try to retain the feeling of burning ecstasy flowing in my veins. Cain never gave me this. I was always left to finish it for myself like some destitute hooker. That was all I was to him; something to be used and thrown away at his discretion.
But I can feel Kid's heart beating at the peak of the feeling that keeps me from panicking at the unexpected achievement of a climax I never attained with someone else's help.
He may be a God of Death, but all I can feel right now is life, pure and determined to shine.
My muscles begin to loosen as the sensation slips away to fade into completion.
My hands slip from his hair to drag limply down his back. A breath I didn't know I was holding escapes my lungs in a heavy sigh.
I'm exhausted but so satisfied at the same time.
"Oh, Emily. You did so good. You were wonderful, love." Kid's voice whispers softly in my ear as his hands, their touch no longer hot but lukewarm as per usual, slide up to my shoulders to pull me from the crook of his neck. I can't do it on my own at the moment; my bones melted away under the fever.
He's flush faced and hazy eyed, a cocky smile playing across his face reminding me of how utterly lost my composer is. No composer, no posture, but a pretty good orgasm.
Speaking of which…
"How…how did you do that?" I sound all winded as my breathing still has yet to synch up with my heart-rate.
I'm so tired I'm not even going to bother swatting his hand away from fixing my hair like I'm some little child. "Having a more aggressive sexual libido allows me to amplify your soul wavelengths and thus, your sexual energy. I've never done it before, but I guess I can safely assume I am rather naturally talented I suppose." Kid chuckles as he kisses my forehead.
Again, I'm too exhausted to deflate his ego.
Wait a fucking second…
"So what, you're saying you have that kind of ability?"
And again, he's laughing, but for the third time, I'm too tired to kick him off the bed.
"Well, of course we need to be engaging in intimacy, but yes, I do have that kind of power. I am able to manipulate and feed off of your sexual energy."
Oh wonderful, I'm dealing with the Orgasm Monster. Special Attack: The Panty Soaker Weakness: "What do you mean you don't fold your underpants into EIGHTHS?"
Kid pulls me closer to cradle my head against his chest, his arm slithering around my waist as he drags the both of us down onto the mattress. "I think it calls for a substantial amount of snuggling, doesn't it?"
I trace my forefinger along his jutting collar bone, my eyes drooping as I look into his eyes. "If I weren't so exhausted right now I'd make you regret being so fucking sappy."
Regrets. I've had enough to last a lifetime recently.
For once I'm not getting any second thoughts.
Maybe I should pick ballet back up? Maybe.
God I can't wait to serve Cain's head on a silver platter, and quite literally. I want to see Kenji's bladed edge slice clean through flesh, muscle, bone, and nerves. His blood will drip hot onto the floor as I hold his head before everyone like a Bible passage. His head will belong to me and me alone, and only then will my revenge be sweet.
My eyelids are falling closed. I hear Kid clear his throat. "So…was it good?"
I'm not too tired enough to punch him in the stomach though.
Author's Note:
How long has it been? A month? I'm just happy to say I didn't spend that month goofing off instead of writing this. Anime Boston was okay, things pretty much went about as wrong as they could have. My Howl's Moving Castle/Spirited Away skit for the Masquerade was an audience and staff favorite, but some bonehead decided to screw with this judging system so we got ZERO awards. Needless to say, we were upset. I also had issues with my dress and I broke my Howl's necklace (which is in the skit). It's up on YouTube if you guys want to see it. I was Sophie!
I'm also getting to the tail end of my senior year. AP Exams and scholarship applications are on my ass at the moment. I'll update as soon as I can. Probably next week since I'm on spring break then.
Again, I like to balance the bad with the good. I did leave you guys hanging on a pretty heavy chapter. Next chapter will serve kind of as one of those clip shows, where in I will go into more detail about scenes from Emily's past. Then it's time for Kid's birthday! But be prepared, shit is going to go DOWN.
Playlist:
Piano Sonata #8 in C Minor, O.P. 13 "Pathetique" – First Movement by Ludwig van Beethoven
I Will Possess Your Heart by Death Cab for Cutie
I Wanna Be You Dog by Emilie Simon (Iggy Pop Cover)
Helena Beat by Foster the People
Heavy In Your Arms by Florence + the Machine
Hope this wasn't too R-rated for you guys. I figured enough with the cock teasing. Happy reading perverts.
Love,
Nicole