Atonement

By Seniya

Kiss

I want to love you, but I better not touch,
I want to hold you but my senses tell me to stop,
I want to kiss you but I want it too much,
I want to taste you but your lips are venomous poison
You're poison running through my veins.

Poison by Alice Cooper

Once there had been a girl, and once there had been a boy; in the eyes of those around them that's exactly all they were: children. No one cared to peer deeper beneath the initial layer of skin to see how these two had been forced into adulthood; how the safety of childhood had been snatched from their pubescent fingers long before they had ever had a chance to appreciate its value.

These eyes all saw what they wanted to: a girl, and a boy, made foolish now, made drunk and ignorant because of their teenaged heartaches. They were too young; they would say…this is happening too fast. They didn't know—mainly because they didn't ask.

………………………

Their first kiss had been awkward, and not for the usual reasons. It wasn't because of inexperience, but mainly due to nervousness—a girl who was crawling from beneath the torn pages of a fairy tale and a boy who had broken her glass slipper.

There had been the careful descent of lips, the hurried sound of their breathing and the feeling, oh the feeling of warmth…almost burning, fiery, which successfully evaporated every one of her inhibitions. His lips had been surprisingly soft, tender, and he had moved them both to reassure her…and in a gluttonous maneuver to savor her taste.

He had wanted her for so very long…it seemed pointless to continue on in this façade…of trying to do the so called right thing…attempting to change the restless desires into sometime more sedate, fruitless.

He had thought that she might pull away—run away rather, but instead she had held on, allowing him this moment of bliss, although she did nothing to encourage him…she was like that, always like that.

………………………

The shadows about them were freezing, like the winds of the north rather than a dark blanket…it made sense that their first kiss should be in the dark, hidden, obscure…she wondered now if it was a premonition for the remainder of their relationship.

He shouldn't be kissing her—she shouldn't be letting him. This was wrong…what was she thinking? There was no relationship—she had a boyfriend…who loved her…and she…she knew that she would learn to love him back.

She felt his hands move along her shoulders—up and down—stilling, pressure, heat…blessed warmth…she parted her lips.

………………………

He found his way inside, managing to conceal his surprise with a mere groan…he pushed her backwards and she staggered in the direction, obviously lightheaded for these rioting sensations that were coursing through her veins, fuel for her racing heart.

She was burning…breaking apart…there was a pressure inside of her that was so powerful she knew that it would destroy her…she…she didn't want to stop it.

………………………

He pulled away moments after…his breath coming in quick, sharp gasps and he stared at her as she stared at him…her eyes were hazy, her cheeks still dirty from the hot tears that had poured from her eyes only minutes before…his eyes were dark, and demanding…he wanted to know. She could already sense the question…he wouldn't allow her to run any longer.

"Don't stop." She whispered, and he obliged her, bending his head—tilting her face upwards for the second kiss.

………………………

Their second kiss was a celebration, albeit short-lived…euphoria transformed rapidly into desperation, soon there was nothing separating them but hands—reaching, holding, pulling…closer, her back touched the wall then, her fingers knotted in his shirt, his fingers twined in her hair and their lips fought, their tongues danced, and the war over desire was won.

The third kiss was tender, for sometime after the second she had become overcome with guilt (as visions of loyalties had slipped through her head); he had attempted to comfort her using the same methods that had caused her this pain. He had kissed her trembling, kiss swollen lips whispering confessions against her hair, words that she would learn to believe soon enough.

After the fourth kiss she would stop counting, she would learn to forget, to relax and to simply relish in the glide of his mouth over hers. She would forget to consider all that this meant and all that this could mean. She would forget tomorrow, she would forget yesterday, she would just close her eyes and let him kiss her…for she wasn't bold enough to kiss him back just yet.

………………………

Author: To my girl/woman/sex hellsagent, for being one hott kid. It's all for you baby. I just remembered your post about this song, then I remembered that I SMEX Alice Cooper. Good combination.

Did you see how I manipulated the word façade to continue to stick it to the man…or Weisman as the case may be.

Next D is for Date.