We raced up the stairs like a couple of giggling school girls, tripping each other and pulling each other back by our clothes, as if competing in a race. If it wasn't for the raspy soft and deep hard kisses that took place then any witness would swear our main aim was to reach my room first. However this could not have been further from the truth; we needed to get there together, we are both simply impatient. Adults would tell you that it was our hormones causing this need, that our age was the primary factor. The ball in my chest tells me that this isn't true, I do not merely want to have sex; if it was that simple I could have stayed with Beck. No this is different, the ball in my chest is ever present; yet grows whenever she is around, the reason I need her is love; it is that pure, and as for the need between my legs could it not be that she is simply that beautiful?

We fall on my bed together; our lips locked, and manage not to break the contact. I push myself on top of her and feel her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging at it slightly, I bite down on her lip; reopening the earlier cut and taste her blood. I lose my senses as her scent invades my every pore. My hands roam her body over her clothes, every curve is memorised, and embedded deeply in my mind. I now know every place to stroke; how to access every weakness. I feel her shudder beneath me as my tongue glides down her ear. Every move is precise; the connection so strong that I almost feel I can sense what she wants; what she needs. Her hand has pushed up the back of my shirt by now and her fingers are scratching down my back, as I feel her nails break my skin I decide that it is time to move on from making out.

My legs are straddling her as I sit up; gripping tightly around hers, I learned early on that holding her legs closed with pressure, with force; it drives her wild. A smile overcomes her face as our eyes meet and my gaze falls on her. I smirk slightly as I tug at the top button of my shirt, signalling to her that I am going to do this slowly. I have to anyway, it's all a part of the plan I formulated whilst at the florists. Despite having brought the flowers which Dani had suggested, looking around the shop; looking over the chocolates, stuffed toys and plants, I had come to realise how hollow these gestures really were. Sure they were 'nice' and I suppose I can see how they have come to be considered 'romantic'; however I also feel that there is a lack of creativity to be associated with people who buy these gifts. So many people buy loved ones these gifts for so many different reasons. Yet they still make people feel special, a concept which I do not understand. Surely such a common gift should cause someone to feel ordinary rather than special?

I had raked my mind for some way I could tell; show Tori that I was sorry, and that it was her I wanted. To show her how special she truly is to me. And I had become acutely aware that I was never going to find that answer in this shop. The mindless articles which had surrounded me may seem sufficient to 'buy' forgiveness to Dani. But in my opinion if I had settled for these I would be no more deserving of Tori's love than any other potential suitor. There was only one thing she had asked of me that I had rejected. Only one thing which I knew she wanted, yet I held the power to stop, and I had instructed that power. To give her this, it was the only way I could see to show her that I was willing to change for her. Not to change who I was as such; but to change in small ways, for us rather than for her.

I pull the buttons apart slowly; her eyes narrow, the black marks on my body still incomprehensible to her, my smirk widened. I lean down pulling her into a deep kiss, knowing that every moment I postpone unveiling it is creating suspense; and in turn overwhelming her curiosity. Pulling back up, I slowly continue. Once the buttons are undone I allow the shirt to tumble down my arms. Tori's eyes widen and her mouth falls open, as she takes in my 'tattoo'.

Written across my chest and stomach; in black marker pen, are the words:

Tori

Will you go to

Prom

With me?

Followed by two boxes' underneath them, one of which has yes written next to it, the other has no. Her eyes light up after what I can only assume is her having re-read the question. From the back pocket of my jeans I pull out the black marker pen and push it into her hands. A high pitched squeal rushes from her body, her arms clamped around my body, crushing my arms to my sides. Her lips found mine in a frenzy, her tongue pushing violently inside of my mouth. As she pulled away, tears were glistening in her eyes; her bottom lip was trembling slightly despite the fact that she was chewing on it slightly.

"Are you going to give me an answer?" I purr pulling her back into the moment.

Quick as a flash she glances at the pen in her hands, tares off the lid and swipes a tick through the 'yes' box. Our lips melt back into each other's and clothes peel of layer by layer. Our naked forms are pressed together, our tongues are battling. My fingers pressed inside her complete the connection. Breaking away from the kiss I lock eye contact. My fingers pumping in and out of her at a steady pace, the soft moans falling from her mouth tell me that I am hitting the right spot. I increase both the speed and the pressure as my thumb rolls over her clit continuously. I watch her eyes roll back slightly and feel her breath heavy on my skin. My free hand strokes gently across her hairline as I pull her face so she is looking directly at me. Our eyes lock once again, and I watch hers roll backwards slightly before squeezing closed, and my name falls from her mouth repeatedly accompanied by moans.

We had already mastered sex, but I think this was the moment I finally understood the concept of making love.