When It Comes To You |j.k

35: 酒。淚。愛。

Knowing that Axl would in no doubt see my
puffy face and start bombarding me with a thousand questions, I close my eyes as I opened the door, getting my weak heart ready for his scolding session that seems to always last hours.

The door pushes itself open from the other side once I unlocked it. The breeze from outside tickled my face and my skin shivered in places that my tears had once touched.

I winced, shutting my eyes tighter, not ready to face Axl's wrath.

And yet something completely different takes the air out of my lungs.

I really didn't see this coming.

A pair of lips collided with mine and a warm palm hugs the back of my neck. The door closes behind us and I don't need to open my eyes to know who's visited.

I could find him with my eyes closed.

How could I forget the taste of his lips? The way my skin would burn under his simple touch? Or how it feels when his big frame engulfs me whole into a tight embrace?

I could forget everything.

Everything but this exact feeling that runs through my blood when he touches me, when he's near me.

He's here.

I lay my hands on his chest as I cried into the rough kisses he hungrily leaves on my lips.

He's really here.

His hands roam around my body, from my neck to my thighs, he touches me without missing a single inch. His kisses are rough and passionate, fervent and ruthless.

It takes me not much to realize that he's far from sober. The smell of booze that lingers on his blazer. The odd taste of his tongue. The sloppy yet intentional kisses and the way his hands desperately travel my skin.

Tears slide down my cheeks like melted candle wax. The tears drop to his button-up, and stain his collarbones.

Our lips detach when he starts painting my neck with his lips, sucking on my skin, and leaving light purple blotches all over. We collide to the wall and he rests forehead on my shoulder, panting, as he continued to leave rough, forced kisses on my now exposed chest.

In the heat of it, it's only now that I realized my shirt was unbuttoned—or rather torn—halfway, and his no different.

His kisses start to grow weak and unsteady, and I feel his lips shake against my skin. He's holding in his breath, gulping down the lump in his throat while I let it free. The sight of him falling apart is too much for me.

My heart can't take this.

I continue to cry, heaves with every hiccup and I feel myself almost choking for air just trying to silence the sobs. Tears drop to his hair and I feel my shoulder wetting up.

He's crying too now.

And it's not long until I start to hear strained sobs leaving his lips. The crack in his voice makes my heart tighten.

I close my eyes and rest my head against the wall, catching my breath as his arms circled around me tightly. He doesn't stop crying, and I feel his body quivering against me.