The Punk Composer (prog/punk fanfiction)

Addictions

His lips.

His touch.

His breathe.

His body.

His cares.

But still…

... it could have been anyone…

The web of fate had simply decided that somebody was meant to be Steve, right there and then.

"What brought you here…?" he whispered, stroking her hair as they were laying down naked, face to face on his bed, after it was all over.

His green eyes expressed all the fragility hidden behind his tough behaviour, now washed away by the sootheness and intimacy of that moment.

Eleanor looked down to avoid eye contact and started running her fingers on his arm.

She hesitated to reply, for a hoard of thoughts in her mind could truly be the answer to Steve's question: basically, all what'd been happening in those last months; her need of affection; her will to retake the power she'd been taken away and of course, sex was a part of it; the main part of it.

She thought of Gilbert in the vain hope she'd get to feel the same feeling again, but until then, she just guessed she couldn't; atleast, not yet.

She'd never truly forgiven Steve. 

Once again: the boy next to her on those sheets could've been anyone.

His arm moved to take her hand in his, as to catch her attention and break her silence.

She shrugged, still looking in another direction, at the blankness of the wall on the other side of the room.

She was clueless about what to say, but she had to bring some words out somehow… for him; for her.

"I... thought about what you said last time we met… and I simply perceived that I can trust you, Steve…"

He took a deep breath and nodded subtly.

"I am sorry for having punched you…" she added, stroking his face.

"It's fine… I deserved it anyway…" he whispered in a grin.

"Actually..."she chuckled, before being pulled in for an intimate kiss.

She'd never seen Steve being so gentle and soft before.

They'd had sex a few times, months earlier, yet this time it all felt more intimate, passional, not purely carnal.

Atleast, that's what she perceived about him… on himself.

She could feel that warmth and sensuality, but she just didn't feel a true part of it.

Maybe, this time the two roles had switched, even though her intent was not playing with his feelings… but saving hers.

However, it was too soon to tell whether Steve had simply set his mind right, or if his aims were something more than that. In any case, what she had in front of her eyes was nobody but the authentic self of the Buzzcocks' guitarist, as she'd never seen him before.

She'd welcomed his kisses and body just like she'd welcomed Glen's, two days earlier.

Could she even put the two of them on the same level, though?

For sure not, but in that moment, it felt like the physical part of their interaction was entirely separated from the actual identities of the two guys; the fact she'd given her body to both - or better, taken both of their bodies - didn't imply she considered Steve as close as Glen.