Get a little bit higher,Midnight came and went and I was still seeing everything through a spin. He walked me backwards up the stairs and down the hall, his arm around my waist, my feet hardly touching the ground as I held his face in my hands, stealing kisses he didn't seem to want to spend.
So we can fall til we bleed
Push a little bit harder
Pull me into the speed
So tell me can you feel this?
Come into my dream
Are you ready to awaken?
Are you ready to feed?
Cause I need to feel
Yeah, I need to say
I must confess, I’m addicted to this
Shove your kiss straight through my chest
Sleepytimes, Bridget. (I'm not the only one who's fucked.)
No. Stubborn girl that I am, I bite his lip hard. He responds in so many ways I don't know what to touch first so I simply go for broke. Everything.
Wait. He says it into my mouth as he turns the knob and in we go. Pitch black, full dark. Our senses recalibrate and launch into overdrive, touch taking center stage. He closes the door and backs me up against it, lifting my dress up over my hips, hands sliding everywhere, our foreheads pressed together as we fight to breathe the little air that remains that hasn't polluted our judgement all to hell.
He tries again. You need to go to bed.
I need you. I try to slide down to the floor in front of him but he grabs my throat, holding me up. He resumes his efforts to take me out of my dress, kissing down my shoulder, pinning me with his torso as I grind against him, fighting my way back out.
I always lose.
He hooks his hands under my knees and slides me up the door and that's it, I can't fight anymore. Now I just hold on very hard as the ceiling comes closer still and then slides away. He smiles into a kiss and stops, pinning me between his body and the wall before resuming, slower than slow. I can feel him trembling and it drives me over the edge.
He has other plans, and lowers us to the floor. His hand comes back up to cradle my face as his other hand finds a purchase on the back of my thigh. He drops all of his weight on me, pulling me up into his rhythm until I forget everything else. The floor has no give, it makes everything hurt in the best way possible but he is not happy with it and so he pulls me up over his knees and sits on the floor, lifting me in his arms, dropping me back down hard, my breathing confined to a small space just underneath his chin. I hold on as hard as I can and we make our return trip to outer space, ending just as I think I can't do this anymore.
He smiles and smothers my face with more kisses. Gentle ones now instead of the ones that sting, ones that bruise. He tells me to hold on tight and he gets up, holding me in his arms and throws me on the bed, climbing on after me, over me, bringing the sheets and blankets up with him, settling in with his arms around me, landing another good kiss on my forehead as my shoulders and hips begin to burn from scraping into the carpet. I ask him how his knees are and he says they fucking hurt so bad but I don't care, no, I don't care about anything right now except for you.
I am so tired now I can no longer outrun the tequila and it catches up with me and turns my lights out, blurring my motives, blurting out confirmations I had no intentions of making. Me neither.
Late this morning I make my way downstairs quietly, gingerly, mildly headachily. Loch is at the table alone eating toast. He asks me how I'm doing and then winces as he gets up to hug me. His knees are fucked, bleeding, shredded. Lochlan, we need to look after that.
Yeah. What about you?
Just slightly burned all over my whole backside, no blood though.
He makes a small grateful smile at that and leads the way down the hall into the bathroom so I can grab the first aid kit.
Funny how the tides have turned and now I'm the one looking after you, I joke but when I look up the clouds have passed in front of the sun in his eyes and he isn't smiling anymore.
Yeah, funny, isn't it? He corrects his expression but it's too late. I don't know what to make of it so I just load it up with iodine and gauze, taping it well but ensuring he has some range of movement. It's the same way I treat all mortal wounds for the two of us, just like he taught me to do: clean it, cover it, and wait for things to get better.