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SO COLD
Morning. 10:13 AM. Consciousness pried heavy eyelids up, lifting the flaps of skin with the tips of his fingers, curious for recognition and searching for the morning rush of sifting through memories and emotions. It was like staring straight into a beam of hot-white light. My eyes squeezed shut, crankiness waking up beside me, like a sullen teenager yanking their covers up over their head. My hand shot out, grabbing my ringing phone from the bedside table, fighting to urge to smash the glass screen to pieces. The charging wire tore away, somewhere on the floor. I answered the call. "What?!"
"Wanna go to Burger King?"
"Motherfucker. What time is it?"
"Uh..." Irvin was quiet for a minute, checking the time on his phone. "Ten fifteen. Why? You up yet?"
"Motherfucker. If I wasn't, would I be talking to you right now?"
"Damn. You're cranky as shit. So, Burger King?"
"Shove a fucking burger up your ass."
"That's unhygienic and it doesn't even sound like something I'd enjoy–"
I hung up.
I exhaled and flipped over on my stomach, face smushed against the pillow, phone shoved under. My eyelids burned with exhaustion, dry and wide awake. Shoulders tensed. Thirty seconds passed. A minute. "This fucker," I cursed in anger and flipped over to lie on my back. Sleep was fleeting, quick to vanish. My mind was active, flipping through a flutter of still-images from last night, forefinger wet and shifting through the pages at the quick pace of butterfly wings. I called Irvin back.
"Went through a tunnel, huh?" he answered, "happens to the best of us, don't sweat for an excuse, Shay. I forgive you."
"Where did you go last night?" My voice was low. I folded the corner of blanket over, slipping my legs out, intending to leave the room so I wouldn't wake up Cole. It didn't matter: He was awake, his arm went around my waist, face on my side, inhaling deeply. His eyes remained close. I relaxed, settling to lean back. I combed through his hair with a gentle hand as I spoke and inquired. "I searched for you. Why did you leave?"
"I felt claustrophobic." His voice was distant as he ordered the number #5 with a side of extra dips and fries and a large Coke. I heard the ring of a cash register and loud calls for orders.
"Where are you, you fat bastard?"
"At Burger King. I was going to wait for you and have a second meal and pretend like I didn't just eat," he paused and then disgruntledly complained, "why the fuck do dips cost the same as a full meal? I asked for extra cheese and she charged me 40 pence. This is terrorism. I'm going to report this bitch."
"Back to serious matters: Where did you go?"
"To my grandma's place. It was empty. I needed a place to crash at and be alone for a while. Ordered donna kebab and watched late showings of the Maury Show. Then woke up early with my arse on fire. I felt like I had period cramps, I was ready to call the cops. You're lucky you've never been through anything like that, Shay."
I contemplated going through a tunnel again, looking at the phone with my expression screwed up like something stank.
"Thank you. Wait, lemme find a seat... So as I was sayin', I was on the brink of a psychotic breakdown. Like my headspace was a mess. I was thinking of giving a sloppy blowjob to the end of a gun – ah. This woman just gave me a weird look." He lowered his voice. "I was ready to meet God, do the whole 'oh fuck, you real' spiel. I mean, after Yolande and Bryson the reborn baby and then the cops and robbers play out at the house, it was fucking up my sanity. So I took a bus trip down memory lane and – this lying fucking whore. I asked and paid for two slices of cheese. I'm going to have to call you back, Shay. The manager is about to hear about this."
He cut the call.
"What did he say?"
"Fuck knows. Think someone wants a Burger King sponsorship though." I held down on the power button until the screen went dark and then slipped the phone under my pillow. Stress uncoiled itself from my limbs as I sunk back onto my pillow, shoulders falling. "Shall we get up?"
"Relax," Cole murmured against my throat as he kissed along it, reaching my jaw. His teeth grazed against my skin as he switched directions, moving downwards. His hands gripped my hips, lower waist moving against my own, swelling erection against my lower area. "It's been far too long since we've had a moment by ourselves. I've missed waking up with you and fucking you in bed and then in the shower and then against the door just before we got breakfast."
I felt myself getting wet against the grind of his member. My hips moved against his. Slowly at first. In sync. My breathing slowed as my t-shirt came up over my head and was discarded and his hands roughly squeezed my breasts, tongue gliding down towards my naval. He stopped just short of my shorts, a delighted upturned of his mouth as he met my gaze. "I've missed the way you look at me, the impatience to be fucked," his hands gripped my wrists, holding them above my head, his mouth returning and brushing against my nipples as his tongue glided and his teeth grazed and pulled. "And the way you rock your hips against me, arching off the bed, wetness against my–"
"Cole," I groaned. "Can we save the dirty talk for any other time but now?"
"I've missed how feisty you can be when I want to make love and go slow and all you want is a quick fuck in bed. Face against the pillow, ass in the air. The slut I love." He laughed hoarsely, that low gruff tone he took on knowing it turned me on. "I've missed the gasps of when you come, the 'fuck' sounds out of your mouth, the redness of your parted lips..." His member was pressed against me firmly and it was antagonising. I wanted him inside of me. "We need to fuck in a room of mirrors. I want you to look at yourself as you orgasm."
My head fell back against the pillow. The cotton material of my shorts was pressed against my lips, wet with need. The friction between his member and my area was ...frustrating. And yet, wonderful.
He pressed his mouth against mine and we kissed with fervent need. Mouths bruised with kisses, he pulled away too soon. I groaned in frustration. He moved my hands. "Grip the frame. If you take your hands away, I won't fuck you." His thumbs slipped in the waistband of the shorts, sliding them down my legs, disregarding them at my ankles. "You know what else I've missed?"
"Oh my fucking God." Was he writing a fucking novel?
"The taste and smell of you," his fingers grazed against the most sensitive area and my hips arched off the bed, he kissed the area, the bristle of his jawline euphoric. "I love the taste of you. The skin against skin feel. The – did you just move your fucking hands?" he glanced up, heavy brow lowered.
"I don't care," I kissed him, switching positions so I was straddling him. I brushed my mouth against his as I said. "You know what I miss? Actually being fucked."
He laughed and then his laugh turned into a pain groan as I slipped my hand into his boxers and gripped his member, nails digging in. I was going to let him fuck my mouth but thought otherwise and freed my hand, hand skimming against the tuft of light hair on his naval and wondered. "Do you want to be my dirty little slut, Cole? All you gotta do is say please."
His expression twisted and he flipped us over, strong arms pinning me down. "You're fucking insane," with his free hand, he removed his underwear and brushed his member against my slick area. He pushed the head inside and groaned, losing the patience to play any more games, pushing himself fully inside of me.
Finally.
***