∞CASSIDY☼
There are so many things that I wanted to tell Mark and the more I thought about it the more they clogged at my throat.
My lips felt like they are stuck with glue.
He kept his eyes on mine as he kissed the backs of my hands. Like a prince in a fairy tale. But we are a long way from the ending, aren't we?
Every inch that he touched felt like they are being ignited with fire. My brain just kept releasing dopamine and I can feel it coursing through my body like warm honey. Like little sparks across my skin and even bigger flutters in my stomach. If I can will it to stop I would, I'll definitely would, but my stimuli is Mark.
And he's everywhere.
He stood up to his full height and suddenly it was darker. His shadow blocking the light of the window. "Sid, we need to do something about your stockings," he picked up the bloody stockings. They looked out of character on his big hands, so delicate against his coarseness. "I'm thinking of just poking holes on them."
I stood up, instantly feeling the pain of the broken skin stretching on my knees. "Do what you want. I'm not attached," I pretended to study the stockings but I just wanted to look at his hands. His long fingers and the calluses on the palms of his hands, the hair that looked like it was bleached by the sun, the mole by his thumb. How his skin looked darker than before. I tried to memorize each detail like I would be quizzed about him later.
Mark laughed. "Yeah, you are aren't. I don't think you ever are," he looked around the room and didn't find whatever it is that he was looking for and settled on ripping it. The muscles on his forearms visible and bulging from his rolled up sleeves. I watched as the veins and the muscles strained as he destroyed the stocking, like it was made of nothing but cobwebs. My breath hitched, like I was watching something dirty. My cheeks heat up and I clenched my thighs for a different reason this time.
My skin tingled with the urge to touch him.
I walked up behind him, the atoms that made me slowly connecting to his. I once told him that the same matter that made us is the same that made up the stars. He complained about wanting to see them and not seeing anything, I explained about light pollution. The thing about Mark is that whenever you explain something to him, he would bounce it back to you in his own way to make sure that he really got the idea. It sounded boring coming from me but when he repeated it, it sounded like a fairy tale. Mark can make every fantastical thing sound like it's a wish waiting to come true and will come true.
Now the same matter in me wanted to connect with his. My arms found their way around his trimmed waist and I held on. I felt him still against me as I pushed my body against his, feeling hard muscles contract against me. "How about now?"
"Sid," he whispered. My name slipping from his lips like it's something holy.
I selfishly tightened my embrace on him. Pressing my cheek opposite his wound, filling my lungs of him as much as I physically could. He smelled of sunshine and tea and a fulfilled wish. "Just give me five minutes." I closed my eyes, feeling the dent of his shoulder blades against my face.
"Take forever," he said. His fingers threaded lightly across the skin on my forearms, igniting tiny fireworks along the way.
I wanted the world to go away and leave us alone. No matter what I do, I can't keep up with it. I'm always going too fast or too slow and Mark is always galaxies away.
"Sire, may I come in?"
Our wide eyes met. I was astounded when I saw how hard he was blushing. Why is that? But I don't have time to dwell. I grabbed onto the stockings on his hands and dove behind the drapes by the window that reached the floor.
