#ElevenYearsWithROSÉ
#11YearsWithChaelisa
HAPPY CHAELISA DAY 💙💜
🐿️🐣
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My entire body floods with disbelief, my blood runs cold and I try to regulate my breathing, I try to get my lungs to work again, my brain functioning normally, but it just doesn't happen.
She's here. She's really here, right in front of my very eyes and she's staring at me like she doesn't know whether I'm going to snap or whether I'm going to run and hide.
To be honest, I don't know either.
Silence drags between us, but my eyes speak volumes as they meet hers and I want to say something, I'm trying to say something but it feels like all words and coherency has just shot straight out the window. It feels like someone's just stolen my breath, my ability to freaking speak, and it seems the only thing I can do is drink her in, take in the sight of the thing that's been missing from my life for an entire year.
So I do that.
I take in the soft lines of her face, the slight dullness that's eased into her eyes and the darkness of her hair. It's not the bright blonde it used to be, and I know it's only been twelve months but somehow she looks older. She looks more worn, more lived in, but she's still excruciatingly beautiful and when she moves for the first time in a few minutes, only shifting to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, I gasp because it's another reminder that she's real. That she's actually here.
Rosé's back.
She's back.
"Hi," is the first word traded between us two, and it's said through a breath from Rosé, but her tone is shaky, is quivering and weak, and I know she's terrified.
I can tell by the way two unsure hands are trembling, by the way they're clutching to the hem of Rosé's hoodie like she's holding back from reaching out and grabbing me; and I'm terrified, too, for different reasons obviously, but I'm still terrified and I don't really know why I do it, but I take the smallest step forward, my head tilting to the side as my eyes continue to roam over her face. Mu hand yearns to reach out to touch her, to see if she's real, to make sure this isn't just some horrible nightmare I'll wake up to in the morning to, on my couch with tear-stained pillows and bloodshot eyes, but I don't know if I can.
It just feels too good to be true, to have her here after so long.
It just feels too good to be true, to know that I survived twelve months without her and that now it feels like I'm complete because she's back.
It just feels too God damn good to be true to know that the first thing she did after getting off that plane... was come to me.
Because no matter how fucking incredible it feels to have her here, I find myself unable to avoid the fact that she left. That she still left me for an entire year, with no contact or anything.
"Lisa," Rosé whispers, and I don't know whether it's hearing my name spoken through her lips for the first time in twelve months, or the way she looks at ms with an intensity that I saw over a year ago, but it causes an instinctive reaction inside of me. I don't know why it didn't happen the second I laid eyes on her, or why I've been standing here for exactly three minutes and thirty-eight seconds with my mouth wide open but I gasp in disbelief, overcome with this sudden feeling of being reunited with her over so long, too long.
Then before I'm making the conscious decision to, I'm zoning in on Rosé, so focused that an apocalypse could occur and I wouldn't notice, and I'm dropping the milk carton I'd forgotten I was grasping to the floor with a small clunk and reaching for her, one hand curling around her hip as the other cups the back of her neck. Next, my body's pushing forward, pressing flush against Rosé's and the breath is hitching in the blonde's throat at the same time I tip her head down and bring our mouths together.
She gasps into the kiss, shocked by the sudden movement, by the sudden action, but I've missed her too much to care and my eyes squeeze shut at the feels of her hands coming up to my cheeks, holding them as she kisses me back. It's everything I've craved for, everything I've wanted for twelve months, to have her here back again, her lips against mine, her body pressed against mind and I feel something new tingle between us, something refreshing and light and I feel the tears running down my cheeks, feel the wetness merging into hers as she's crying, too.
It's so beautiful, but so destructive-it's a beautiful disaster-because this isn't going to sort anything out.
This isn't going to erase the fact that she left, or that I never told her I was in love with her and am still unsure of how she feels about me.
This isn't going to do anything but give I what I need, what I want, and in a few hours I know I'm going to feel like shit, but it just feels too fucking good to stop.
My lips part, my lungs taking in a deep breath and I barely give Rosé the chance to do the same before I'm kissing her again, not wanting to part from her so soon. Her hands remove my glasses and throw them into the apartment. Her hands move down to my neck, stroke along my collarbone, tangle in the hairs at the nape of my neck, and my own hands struggle to find a place on her body, wanting to touch her everywhere but wanting to keep her stable at the same time; but I finally find refuge on her hips, the tips of my fingers skimming beneath the hem of her hoodie to touch hot, soft skin.
It's something that's only been in my dreams, something I honestly never thought I'd feel again and it sparks something between us. Fresh tears coat my cheeks, coat her cheeks, and somewhere in the back of my mind I realize that we're still standing in the middle of my apartment doorway and so I shift backwards, her body falling into mine, her feet stumbling against mine as I pull her into the apartment, kicking the door shut as I spin her around, her arms winding around my neck to keep me close.
My hands drop to her ass, pulling her tight against me and she groans against my mouth, her kiss growing sloppy and so I take this opportunity to press a path of open-mouthed kisses down her neck, memorizing the taste of her skin against my tongue. I'm unable to stop the flow of tears that continues to stream from my eyes, but I just want to feel good, I want to make Rosé feel good because I've felt so fucking empty and now she's here, now she's scratching her nails against my scalp, tilting my head back, staring me in the eye with equally glossy eyes and brushing her lips against mine too softly, and I feel complete.
And it angers me in a way.
It angers me because when she left, I made a promise to myself that I would find a way to live without her; but now that she's back, I'm realizing that I've only found out that I can't.
There's something about her, something that worries me to my very core because I shouldn't be so dependent on someone. I never have been before and I never wanted to, but I feel like I didn't have a choice with Rosé. It just happened, and I had no control over it.
Just like falling in love with her - it was beyond my control.
"Lisa," Rosé pants against my mouth, her hands pulling the tie from my hair, allowing it to cascade over my shoulders. "Lisa, I..."
My eyes meet hers, the hesitancy clear in both our expressions, but I can hardly focus on that when she's this close, when I can obviously see the lust, the need, the want and the hunger behind her eyes. And I don't want to think about the hurt, the anger, the mix of emotions I feel because she's here. After twelve damn months, she's here, in my arms, staring at me and it's just too much for me.
Her lips meet mine again, her tongue sliding into my mouth instantly and I whimper as her hands trail down from my neck and nimble fingers reach down to the hem of my shirt, curling and tugging up until I'm forced to part as the fabric's freed from my body, thrown across the room. Cool air pierces my skin, but then Rosé's there, whipping her own hoodie off to reveal nothing beneath and pressing her bare chest against my bare chest and my hips are jerking into hers, bulge growing in my boxers as warm, gentle hands run down my breastbone before parting and palming my breasts. My nipples pebble beneath her touch, my lips dropping open into an 'o' shape but then Rosé leaning forward, sucking on my top lip and coaxing me back into a kiss.
My hands snap back to her hips, an automatic reaction and when she bites down on my lower lip, rolling my nipples between her thumbs and forefingers at the same time, I let out a moan so loud I'm sure in any other situation I'd be embarrassed. But it's been too long without someone touching me like this, too long since Rosé's touched me like this and my entire body flares up at her touch, at her kiss, at the way she shifts and licks a path down my neck her hands dropping to the waistband of my sweatpants, thumbs hooking into them.
The combination of having her back, of her kissing me, of her pulling down my sweatpants and boxers and the feeling of me springing free and her hand wrapping around, is all too much. There's too much heat in my body and it feels like I'm about to hyperventilate. I try to get a grip on myself, I try to fight the next onslaught of tears that threaten to fall but I can't. But I need a distraction, so as Rosé litters kisses up my thighs, her fist curling around my throbbing member, stroking me in the way only she knows best, I manage to get a hold of her shoulders and tug her up, needing to have some sort of control over this.
I offer her a sad smile in the split second before I kiss, and I see her give me the same before I bring our mouths together, stroking my tongue into her mouth and letting my hands map out every inch of her, remember every curve, and dip and contour of her body as I begin to undress her. The kisses become slower, less needy, less angry and her touch softens as she stops her ministrations and wraps her arms back around my neck again, her nose nudging against my cheek.
It feels so weird, going from being utterly heartbroken to feeling so complete again, but it's weird in the best possible and I can't deny that it feels good. So fucking good and somehow I manage to push my thoughts away long enough to flick open the button on Rosé's jeans and urge them down her legs, along with her underwear. My hands grip at her hips gently as I help her step out of them, my lips never parting from hers and I can feel my erection pressing between my stomach and hers as she brings our bodies back together again, touching and merging at every available point.
I can feel how ready she is, how wet she is for me as she grinds forward, and it flicks that switch from slow and soft to hot and fast and then I'm back to clutching at her like I'm afraid she'll disappear again, my fingernails sure to be making indents in her skin as her own nails dig into the nape of my neck. I stand there for a few moments, just reveling in knowing I'm kissing her again, deepening it when I want and flicking my tongue against her bottom lip in the way I know she loves and garnering the hottest sounds when I want.
Because it still feels too surreal. It still feels like I'm going to wake up tomorrow morning with an empty bottle of vodka rolling around on the floor beside me because if I'm dreaming, if this is really a dream, and yet it feels so real, it has to be alcohol induced. It has to be.
Though if it is, I'm going to enjoy every moment I can get. Even if it is a dream, and I'm going to wake up hurting more than ever before.
"Rosie," I murmur against her mouth, my hands traveling around to her back, down it until my hands are cupping the crease where her thighs and ass meet, my fingers spreading to squeeze the flesh, to try to reach for her arousal. "Rosie," I repeat again, trying to get the word out around her kisses but she's adamant, keeping my lips pressed together like this is everything she's yearned for in the past year, just like I have. It seems she's so invested that the only way I can get her attention is by shifting my hands, letting my fingers stretch out until I'm dipping into her wetness, feeling the way her body sinks against mine as she shudders, her knees giving out.
I'm right there though, keeping her up and she breaks the kiss, tipping my foreheads together and I nudge her face up, kissing her softly once before I'm staring into her eyes, my hands sliding back to her ass, maintaining the rocking motion we had set. She exhales unsteadily against my lips, her breath hot, heavy and shaky, and her fingers rake through my hair. The moment feels a lot bigger than it is, than it should be, but I can't fight that affection and love gripping my chest as I let myself feel the reunion surround us two.
But we both want something, we both need each other and I can't deny myself any longer.
"Bed," I whisper, stroking my nose against her cheek before I kiss her softly.
She shakes her head into the kiss, her hands fisting my hair again. "No," she mumbles and for a split second I'm confused. We're both naked, and we were pretty sure it was going that way. "Too far," she adds and I grin but then she's dipping her tongue into my mouth as I forget about anything except Rosé.
One of us begins to move, and I'm not too sure who, but I barely have time to because my knuckles collide with something hard and I'm pulling Rosé into me to make sure she doesn't bump into anything. Except she's already moving away from me, and I manage to bring one coherent thought into my mind to realize I'm near the small table by the wall and so I hold Rosé close, my lips pressing against hers as one arm moves up to wrap around her waist to steady her and the other swipes out, purposefully knocking off the objects on top and onto the floor. She kisses me back feverishly, humming a moan against my mouth and I stumble a little as I press her into the edge of the table.
"Get up there," I rasp against her lips, my hands drifting down to her thighs as she reluctantly slides her hands out my hair.
I pull my head back, watching her movement but then my eyes meets hers and I dick throbs painfully so when I see dark, lustful brown staring back at me. I wet my lips, helping her up by grabbing her thighs and urging her up as she braces herself on the side and lifts, and then I'm parting her legs and standing between them, whimpering when the tip of my member prods against the inside of her thigh.
She steals my breath as she flicks her tongue against the roof of my mouth, and I'm so distracted by that, that I barely register her hand curling around me again and stroking languidly, urging me closer to her until the head of my cock brushes against her sex. It's wet, and hot, and my eyes roll into the back of my head at the same time her hips jerk when I bump her swollen bundle of nerves, but she's right there, cupping the back of my neck with her free hand and tipping my head until she can suck my bottom lip into her mouth and guide me to her entrance.
The kiss breaks, our foreheads resting together and the tips of her fingers toy with the fine hairs at the nape of my neck as I shift forward, lining myself up and pressing in, groaning as I slide into her. Rosé gasps out in pleasure, her moans increasing the more I fill her and it's hot and wet and tight and I've missed it more than I thought I ever could.
I lift my gaze just in time to witness the way she looks as I fill her; the way her teeth sink into her bottom lip, the way a flush spreads up her chest and neck, and the way her eyes are fluttering shut as I bottom out inside of her, and my heart squeezes painfully tight at the image. Yet I try to focus on the way her muscles are clenching around me, the way she's stretching to accommodate ms after all this time of the missed connection but it feels like too much.
There are tears in my eyes before I can stop them, and when Rosé lowers her head, her eyes finding mine again, I see the glossy brown and that breaks something inside of me. My throat gets thick as I breathe out a shuddering exhale and my hands curling into fists as they rest on top of the table either side of Rosé's thighs. Pale hands come up to my cheeks, cupping them and I force myself to drop my gaze from hers as I begin to move steadily.
It starts out slow, pleasure sparking through me and I can feel the pressure of Rosé's hands on my cheeks and the way she's trying to bring my vision back to hers but I can't. I feel like I can't because I'm already on the brink of crying and one glance into her eyes, another press of her lips against mine is going to complete snap the last barrier I have, and both of us need this. Both of us need this connection, I can feel it in the way her hips tilt into every thrust, the way she whimpers when I find and tap that spot immediately and the way I can already feel the pressure building in my spine, the heat coiling in my stomach.
And it's stupid to think that I can't look at her, can't kiss her, because only moments ago I was doing both; I was treasuring both - but it feels more significant now and I don't even know why.
Strong thighs tighten and quiver in pleasure around my hips, pulling me in deeper and exhaustion begins setting in as I pump my hips harder and faster, a sheen layer of sweat covering my brow, but I won't let up. Rosé's nails dig into the skin of my neck as moans and groans fill the air, and I can hear my name whispered through her lips, the desperation creeping into her tone, needing me to meet her eyes but I can't. I won't disturb my movements with the way I'm making her and myself feel, but I can't look at her.
I just... can't take it.
"Lisa," Rosé pants, her voice hoarse and jolted as I rock my hips into her faster and faster, causing the table to knock against the wall. "Lisa, look-" she pauses to gasp, her head lowering until her lips are dusting the shell of my ear as I'm resting my face in the crook of her neck. "Look at me... please."
Frustration and pain slices through me at the request because I'd give anything to be able to fulfill it, but I can't. I can't bring myself to look at her and let that barrier go because I spent twelve months building it. I've spent an entire fucking year building a wall around my heart and the second my eyes meet hers, I know it'll just fall apart and crumble to the ground.
But I can't deny that I want to. I can't deny that I want to see the look in her eyes, that I want to know if she still looks at me the way she did all those months ago because I know I still look at her the same way. Because I'm still madly in love with her, whether I like it or not-that hasn't changed-and as much as I'm regretted not telling her before, hated myself for not letting her know before she left, I feel like I can't give in so easily now.
It feels like I've worked too hard for something that can break in a second, so I squeeze my eyes shut and press my face harder into the crook of her neck, my lips kissing, sucking, biting over her skin. It's the best I can do. It's the best way I can tell her everything without words, without kissing her.
"Ugh," Rosé cries, her hands moving to my shoulders, to my shoulder blades, her arms wrapping around me and then coming back until she's clinging to my neck as I pound into her rapidly.
Both of us are breathing hard, skin now damp and hair tousled and messy, and I poke my tongue out, wetting my dried lips as the heat tightens further and further within me, and I know my strength to hold up looking at her is weakening, I know I'm not going to be able to get my release until I glance at her and without conscious thought, I slow my hips, trying to let go of the rapid tempo set and begin sliding into her in a slowed manner.
Something in the way I move must trigger Rosé's attempt again, because she begins rolling her hips and gradually moves her hands up to my cheeks again, fingers curling around my jaw and tilting my head with a gentle pressure until my face is close to hers; yet I still keep my eyes closed. I squeeze them until my facial muscles ache, and mu knuckles skid against the wood so I steady myself and manage to not fuck up the rhythm by pushing one beneath her ass, palm up and the other griping at her hip.
Though it's the wrong thing to do because I'm so distracted by making sure I keep up the way my hips are rocking into hers that I forget to not look into her eyes and then I'm locked, staring into brown and feeling my entire body tingle. Her eyes are full of tears, her cheeks stained with a few dried ones and it chokes me up, but at the same time affection grips at my chest because in this moment, I know she feels the same as I do.
In this moment, I've never been more sure of anything else.
I can feel everything she does, by the way her fingers stroke delicately along the line of my jaw, by the way her eyes dart between mine, gazing at me deeply and by the way she shifts closer to me, bringing her ass to the very edge of the table until I'm able to bury myself hilt deep and tap the right spot that I know will bring her over the edge with a few repetitions.
I can feel everything in this moment, including the sound of my pulse roaring in my ears, and the rapid thumping of my heart leaping against my rib cage and the way her lips are forming the words I've been dying her hear.
And I swear, when she dips her head, not breaking the eye contact and brushes her lips against mine, paints those words against my lips but doesn't verbalize them, that I've never loved her more.
Because I may have built those walls so high no-one could climb them again; I may have spent months and months trying to repair myself; I may have tried to live without her only to find out that I can't, but none of that means anything now that she's here.
None of it matters now that she's staring at me with unbridled love.
None of it matters now that she's clutching at me like a life raft, like she needs me to live.
None of it matters now that she's spasming hard, clenching around me in sudden waves and moaning my name.
Because she's here, she's back, she loves me and I love her.
It's undeniable, and the mix of witnessing pleasure take over her body and the intensity in her gaze, pushes me over the edge until I'm following her in her release, burying myself hilt deep and emptying everything I have into her, grunting at the warmth that encompasses my cock. And she doesn't give me a chance to take a breath before she's grabbing my face again and pulling me into a kiss, pressing her lips hard against mine and whimpering both of us ride out the aftermath of our orgasms.
***
I don't know how long I stand there for, or when my hands moved to her thighs, or how I've gone many minutes without pulling back for air, but I don't care. I'm just marveling in the way she's kissing me, in the way she's sucking on my bottom lip expertly, how she's cradling me and how I just feel so... complete, now that she's back.
Eventually, the need for oxygen gets too much and I inhale deeply through my nose, pushing my lips hard against hers and kissing her in the way I've wanted to for an entire year one last time before I pull back, finally allowing the exhaustion to take over me as I collapse into her. Long arms wind around my back, holding me against her and I breathe out steadily, my breath warm against her sticky skin and my own arms slinging low around her hips.
We stay there for another few minutes, getting used to each other and waiting for strength to come back, and I can't help it when I turn my neck, temple now resting against her shoulder and nose stroking up the muscle in her neck, smelling Rosé, sweat and a slight tinge of vanilla body wash. It's so familiar, so welcoming, and I find the corners of my lips turning up, my eyes fluttering shut because I feel like this is where I'm meant to be. This right here, in Rosé's arms, feels like home.
At the thought, I lean back, my limbs unsteady and let my hands drift back down to her thighs, parting her legs a little so I can step back and grasp my softened member and slide out of her. There's a whimper, a wince, and Rosé looks at me with uncertainty when our bodies are fully disconnected, her legs closing again and body curling slightly like she's unsure of what I'm going to do, or say.
And it makes me hurt, because if there was one thing she never did, was react to md like this. Because Rosé always had a way of knowing how I felt, or what I was going to do, or how I was going to react, and even though I've actually only known her for five years or so, it feels like I've known her for a lifetime.
It feels like I've been in love with her for a lifetime, actually, and I know there's no way in hell I can be mad at her, or bring up what's happened because right now, she's back. She's here, staring at me with soft, bright brown eyes and I love her and I know she loves me, too.
For now, that's all that matters.
So I offer out my hand, turning it palm up and lift my gaze to meet hers again, seeing the shock evident in her features. Her eyebrows rise a little, and brown flicks between me and my hand, and it takes a few seconds but then she's settling her palm against mine and I'm helping her off the table, ignoring the mess on the floor around us from where I swept it off the table and I'm pulling her down the hallway and into my bedroom, urging her beneath the sheets of my bed and sliding in next to her.
I'm already reaching for her, my fingers gripping at her hip and her arm and legs tangling further down the bed and I know she's not entirely sure why I'm doing this, why I'm not yelling or shouting, or even just talking about her leaving, but I don't want to. I want to let myself feel this, let myself be with her for one last time in the way we used to be before I jump into a pit full of complications and reasons why we aren't together.
That's why when she finally scoots toward me, settling into my embrace, I don't even hesitate in bumping my fingers beneath her chin, tilting her head up until I can kiss her softly and whisper, "I've missed you," against her lips.
There's a gasp, a hitch in Rosé's breathing at the words, and she freezes for exactly seven seconds before she's pushing forward, kissing me harder, deeper, dipping her tongue into my mouth and curling it around the edges of my teeth, her fingers tangling into my hair. She keeps kissing me in the way she knows makes my knees go weak, and I welcome it, savor it until I'm dizzy and I can't breathe and then she pulls back, squashing her nose against mine and looks me straight in the eye, her fingers coming out from my hair to rest palm down against my cheek.
"Not as half as much as I've missed you," she replies, repeating but slightly altering the words she uttered when she left a whole year ago.
And it's right here, in this moment, that I realize no matter what's to come, no matter what problem's I've got to deal with and no matter what my friends say about me giving in so easily, no matter what I say about myself, that Rosé and I are going to be just fine.
Because soul mates always are.
***
After a lot of staring, a lot of touching and strangely enough, not much kissing, Rosé falls asleep.
But I don't let it drag me under just yet, because I want a few moments to myself to stare at her.
I haven't been able to in so long, I haven't been able to take in her features and admire every inch of her face and its beauty because she hasn't been here. She's been missing from my life for twelve fucking months; she's been the reason for that hole in my heart, for the emptiness in my life and I know tomorrow is a new day, and tomorrow I'm going to have to not repeat the events of tonight and sit down with Rosé and talk because there's so much we need to discuss.
Tonight, though, I just want to stare at her. I just want to trace my fingertips over her skin, map her out and remember her because I didn't get to do that before we said goodbye.
I didn't get to treasure these moments, and so I'm going to do it as much as I can while I can.
***
Fifty minutes later, I feel sleep trying to take over me and know that I can't stay awake any longer.
I want to spend the rest of the morning just staring at her, but it's already coming up to nine and I haven't had a wink of sleep.
So I settle down, mu hand sliding beneath the pillow and I rest my cheek against it, too, my eyes fluttering shut as I wind my arm around Rosé's waist, pressing against the small of her back to bring her closer. She stirs a little, grumbles something unintelligible and nuzzles against me.
And even though I can feel a thickness creeping into my throat, the heat prickling behind my eyelids at the knowledge that tomorrow, or rather today, I'm going to have one of the most difficult and painful conversations of my life, I can't deny that there's this bubbly, lightness in the pit of my stomach because Rosé's back in my life, right in front of me.
With that thought, I smile to myself and crane my neck, pressing my lips to her shoulder and whispering those three words that I've wanted to for so long now into her skin, feeling the way something snaps in my chest, releasing this... thing that's been locked up for too fucking long now, before I lie back down completely, scooting as close to her as possible, pressing my nose against hers and resting my mouth barely an inch in front of her as sleep takes over me.
But I miss the way Rosé's lips curve up; she heard every word.