:Frerard: A story about first passion. Contains adult content.
It's not right, is it? What we're doing? But...but, oh, God/, it feels so fucking /good. This is...what is this? Lust? Love? Simple friends experimenting with the curiosity that's been gnawing on them for the past couple weeks, months, years?
Fuck. It doesn't matter. We're already doing it and no matter what we want now or later it won't change.
Oh, God, you smell so good. Like...like cigarettes. And something else. Something masculine. God, I can't think of it. All I can think about is this feeling...this beautiful, wonderful sensation/. Everything is perfect and sweet and woderful and I love this, I Love this, I /LOVE THIS!
Why haven't we done this before? I know...I know we've both wanted it. I did, so badly. And I could feel the want- the need/- radiating off your body before this so /why didn't we do this before? I can't...nothing makes sense. My brain is scrambled with this feeling pulsing in through my body. Your skin is on mine, I can feel that your breath is hot on my neck and you're giving me this and I love you for it. I love you so much at this moment that the only way I can show you is by screaming it over and over and trying to give back to you what you're giving to me.
I can see sweat beading on your skin. Your beautiful, soft, perfect skin. It rolls down your neck, passed that dark ink in your flesh. I want to lick it off, to make it mine, to make you mine. Oh, God, I just want you so badly right now, I have to show you, I have to let you know that I love it everytime our bodies move together and hearts beat in time and we both cry out "I love you" and how everything is just so wonderfully, beautifully, perfect.
Your skin is moving faster against mine. Yes, yes, you need this, I need this. Together now. You're letting the friction build, I can feel it. My mouth wrapped around yours, saliva warm, taste of tongue. There's a moment where I feel you shudder, where your voice gets weak and you hold me tight right before I do the same. Every emotion is released in the second in which nothing matters, nothing makes sense and I could care less.
Breath on my neck, softer now. Skin on mine, slick, wet. Hair. Drenched. Hearts. Slowing.
...Inhale... ...Exhale... ...Inhale... ...Exhale....
And what we're doing is so fucking right.