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diary entry: late september 2010 You have to remind yoursel..
🕑 Added 2023-03-06 22:07:16 +0000 UTC diary entry: late september 2010You have to remind yourself to breathe as he kisses your neck, his hands pouring over your thighs. You have to steal little gasps because you forget sometimes, and he chuckles and that would bother you if he weren’t making plenty of noises too.
Your dorm room window is shut and the heat gets trapped between you, making you both sweat across each other’s skin. His hair is damp and soft and you run your fingers through it, perpetually perfect. You must look like a mess right now, rat's nest hair and flushed bad skin, and it would be easy to feel self-conscious (why? why did he choose you?) but you can’t think. It’s just the heat, so much heat, and you haven’t felt like this for so long, oh my god, kiss, kiss, press. Every once in a while you have to stop, take a breath, rest your face against the pillow and just smile, what are you laughing at, nothing, don’t mock me, smug bastard, kiss.
Oh god, this is what they’ve all been talking about. You always knew it could be like this, it had to be like this because it’s this amazing thing that everyone talks about and you knew it had to be better than what it was with the others where there was always that edge of distraction and worry and self-consciousness but now there’s no thought and no work and no nothing, nothing that can pull you back from the crush of his hips and the vulnerable, noiseless shudder of his breath against your ear. You brace your palms against the mattress and push back, push against, bite down on his shoulder and grimace against his skin you could nearly cry you could nearly scream and groan and gasp because it burns some place deep inside you and I want you so badly, you don’t even know who said it but you agree, you would agree if you could breathe if you could summon breath to reply but you can’t-
He will get you off and you will clench your eyes shut and writhe in aftershock and arch your back and he will hold you close and warm and rest but it’s only a momentary respite from the inescapable heat and need that has been born inside of you for more. You will get him off and he will keen and whisper he is close and quiver and you kiss his neck, tasting the sweat and desire and you begin to get addicted to him and to the way he tastes like cigarettes and isn’t afraid to tuck you under the sheets and follow you there because he isn’t a boy and this isn’t high school and you don’t want to avoid it anymore, or wait for it, or worship it as some far off possibility. Sex is real and always in the room and you want to just say fuck little miss girl next door so responsible so cautious not going to get hurt well fuck that because it’s time and you’re ready. This is real and it feels good and you know it would be good, so good, so intoxicating and dangerous and tangible that you dig your nails into his back and curl your ankles around his ass and pull him desperately closer because it’s undeniable.
It’s the wrong decision and you just can’t bring yourself to care.
