HIVER
DECEMBRE。
The moment I entered your apartment, I saw you sitting in front of a canvas, angrily drawing your frustration away, punishing the canvas with everything you had in you; the brushes roughly hit the white space and kissed it blue, yellow then green and then you took a swab of paint and stabbed the drawing bloody red; the man staring back at you was bleeding green and red and you barked out a dry laugh at the scene.
We saw each other two weeks before that and for your safety, we decided not to see each other for a week. It wasn't the easiest decision to make but we had to, and while I distracted myself with reading, you distracted yourself with drawing. Despite the anger you let out in those drawings, they were still beautiful.
You were in the empty room in your apartment that you only used to draw. It was an empty and vast safe for the canvases, drawing equipment and a radio that was belting out soft music.
Outside your window, the sun was softly shining and melting the snow away. The light curtains that covered it were slowly swaying, making me realise that it was open.
I walked up to you without interrupting your moment and when I touched your neck, you sucked in a sharp breath. Your eyes never left mine as I came to stand in front you and smiled.
"Tu m'as manqué," you said as though you had run out of breath.
I didn't speak a single word because today I only wanted you to see, not listen. I crouched down to your height and grabbed one side of your face before pecking your lips and lingering on the moment to be able to relish the taste of your cold lips on mine before pulling away. I could hear your whimpering protest and smiled.
I was doing this on shaky limbs—me standing back so you could get a better look of my body—as I slowly brought my hands to my sweater and taking it off in a swift motion. I could feel your intense gaze on me and I was not one bit ashamed. I wanted you to look at me; I wanted to fulfil your wish.
The air hit me and bit my skin as I stood there shirtless, staring at your beautiful face. I observed as you thickly swallowed the moment I reached for my jeans and took them off as well. When I took off my boxers last and stood fully naked in front of you, your gaze was dark and hot enough to warm me up.
I ran my tongue over my lips because of how dry they had gotten and spoke to you as audibly as I could. "How do you want me?" I asked.
It took you a long time to take your eyes off me and replying. You told me to sit on a stool you offered, and motioned for me to hook a leg on the stool with my fist supporting my chin as it rested on my thigh. And then you told me to look at you.
So I looked at you, observing how delicate you were and how you were so good at what you did that you didn't need to look at the drawing to know where to draw each line. We stayed as we were unbothered by a single thing. My eyes never left your face as you started adding colours to the drawing, once in a while meeting my eye before looking back at the painting just as fast.
Hours later, you were done with the painting and your patience as well.
I was fixated on your every move; I watched as you placed the canvas aside, seemed to care less about the paint you knocked over as you approached me. I was still staring with no intention to move as you grabbed my face. "Please kiss me, Harry," you pleaded.
And I did.
I kissed you with everything I had. I hooked my arms around your waist as your hands cradled my face. Our lips melted together perfectly, and your hands brought shivers down my spine but I didn't stop you from touching me. I wanted you to keep touching every inch of me until there was no place you untouched.
