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 Friday, im in love

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Chandler Riggs

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Posts : 1150
Join date : 2014-07-04

PostSubject: Friday, im in love   Sat Jan 03, 2015 8:14 pm

Monday:  He hates them, always waking with tired stretches and grumbling complaints. He is pale in the dawn morning light, heavy bags under his eyes and earrings glinting in the sun, his eyelashes against your cheek. He brings coffee to bed, too much sugar and no cream, the taste leaves you cringing. But your hands can't stop touching him when he says goodbye in favor of going for a cigarette. He leaves you with the soft of his stomach against your body, palm holding your chin as you kissed. When he is gone the feeling of his touches linger.


Tuesday : Playful with his arguments, grin crooked as he presses toothy kisses against your mouth, and swears he loves you just as much as he ever loved Eustass. His lips are at your earlobe then, when he whispers that he thinks he loves you even more than he ever loved Eustass.  He laughs at you then, the way your cheeks have flushed at his words. He says you should go play doctor, and then he ravishes you on his work table for hours. 


Wednesday : His side of the bed is cold and it is still mostly dark, but light filters through the curtains to stain the sheets and lighten the opened book. Eustass's picture is staring back at you. When you find him, there are shaky kisses and harsh words, his hands fumbling against your skin as he explains himself. His fingertips are cold and nervous, his lips already flavored of stale cigarette smoke. He can't look at you because he is guilty, but he still has the audacity to slam the door in your face without a goodbye at the mention of Vince.  You love him still. You go get a beer. You wait for him to come home. 


Thursday:  He loves you fiercely, wildly, in a way of apologizing. Lips are stained red with blood, and swollen from kisses.He leaves you with bloody cuts, and you return to him bruises and loving bite marks. His teeth scrape against your collar bone, and he swears you had better be thinking of him, and only him. He pulls the blanket when he rises, letting it pool at his hips while he stares down at you. He kisses you breathlessly, and lies about the tears you see after you tell him that he is all you ever think of anymore.  


Friday: In the morning, before the sun has fully risen. you are gifted with sleepy kisses.  Neither of you are asleep, but still not quite awake, but his hands are reaching for you.  He never sleeps unless his head can be near your chest, so he can always hear your heart. You think this must be love, the way he is able to heal you after you had reached a point where getting better seemed impossible. With every touch he sets your skin on fire and ignites you with passion. He gives you life.  He is a black silk shirt, a touch that is so strict, yet so gentle. He is tan skin and a crooked grin. He is everything. 


Saturday: The smell of smoke is steady, his hands are ever busy with his book, but he still has time to brush his skin against your sides, occasionally cup your face in his hands. He complains that you smell like booze, and smiles when you reply that he reeks of smoke. He makes you breakfast, plenty of bacon and sausage with a stack of pancakes.  While you eat he tells you what Eustass's favorite breakfast was, and asks about Vince.  When you are finished, he brushes the crumbs off the bed with his tired smile and smears syrup from the corner of your mouth. He doesn't say any more about the lovers that have been lost.


Sunday: It is too warm in the sheets to move, so he decides to stay. You sleep late with his body soft against your side, reminding you that you are not alone. There are whispers against your skin, chapped lips and promises. He doesn't ever let the sex be soft, but today he does. After, you focus on his heartbeat through a cotton nightshirt of yours,  its beating confessions through his chest, against the palm of your hand as your fingers run over his "Do not resuscitate" tattoo. You were afraid you would hate this, it was foolish to think that this could be anything other than precious. You drop a kiss to his forehead. You are happy to be alive. You are in love.
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