myself experienced in most things.
Substances, check. I’ve practically tried them all. Sexual encounters? Check, check, check. I’ve fucked my way around the varieties of beautiful women. Small, tall, skinny, thick, African American, White, large chested, Asian, flat chested, Native American, young, old…you name it, the list goes on forever. I love all women. God’s most beautiful creation. They are like a decadent ice cream to me. Wet on a warm tongue, creamy when they need be, and the variety of flavors will keep you endlessly satisfied.
However, what I’ve never experienced is making love to a woman.
Until last night, that is.
Han and I made sweet, perfect, beautiful fucking love.
It was slow, as I kissed her pain away. It was gentle, as I became a part of her, and her, a part of me. It was a connection between our bodies, hearts, and our minds, all mingling together in a perfect tornado of pleasurable feelings and insurmountable trust, the significance of it so incredibly loud.
The way our eyes stayed connected throughout still sends chills down my spine. We saw one another, just as we had on LSD night, but we didn’t need the drugs to feel the complete transparency between us. We were open books, our words blending together to form our own beautifully tragic kind of tale. One that can only be written with our tongues, read with our fingertips to flesh, understood only with our souls.
She’s right. There’s a depth to me that she alone brings out. She finds those rare pieces of me and shines them like a dull pair of leather shoes, somehow scuffing out all of my flaws.
She’s everything I didn’t know I wanted or needed. She caught me entirely by surprise and my brain is still trying to catch up to my heart. I know she’s bad for me. I know when she says she’s afraid she’ll hurt me, those words are nothing but the truth. She seems like the type that would be impossible to keep satisfied. I mean, she can’t even decide on one gender that would suffice. How could I ever be enough? I’m the one with all the hope. But will it be enough for the both of us?
My brain is overloaded with an obsession like never before. It’s practically unhealthy at this point as I stare at her sleeping form, memorizing every tiny freckle on her perfect little button nose to how her thick eyelashes curl. Her bangs sit just far enough away to keep from touching her eyebrows, and her bottom lip sticks out just a tad further than the top, leaving a perfect little pout that will stay imprinted on my mind forever.
I’ve been watching her for about two hours now, and I can’t look away. Any time she sucks in a breath, or lets out an adorable tiny moan, or when her lip curled up into a little smile while she was dreaming, I sink into my infatuation a little further. She controls my complete attention, and I’m captivated and reeled entirely into her world.
Fuck. I think I love her.
Is this love? Or obsession? The line seems blurred to me.
Her eyelids flutter before opening and I instantly feel my stomach drop. How will she be in the light of day? The exposure…will it change her? Will she have regrets? Will last night have been too much for her to handle? It was almost more than I could handle.
She makes me melt when I’m near her. The world around us becomes a smear of distant memories. A past I no longer care for. The only thing I want is to always be present in her space, in her time, in her vision.
The first thing she does is adjust herself onto her side, her eyes finding mine before her little smile returns.
She woke up and smiled at me. I’m a fucking goner.
Her hand finds my face, and she holds the side of my cheek, leaning her head forward to touch noses. She grins as she gives me an Eskimo kiss, before laying on her back and facing the ceiling with that same smile pinned to her face like a new tattoo.
“How long were you looking at me?” she asks, turning her head to face me with a mischievous smirk.
“Two hours, and eleven minutes,” I answer quickly, checking the clock near the bed.
“Two hours and eleven minutes,” she repeats softly, looking back at the ceiling. She sighs, then rolls back towards me, the greens of her eyes penetrating me. “That’s a really long time.”
“Not even a little bit.”
We stare at one another, thoughts of last night circulating through my mind. So much seems to have changed between us, but then again, what really changed? She said she was sorry for leaving me, the only person who makes her want to stay. The words etched themselves into my heart like a fiery knife, searing the flesh beneath its heat. But did it change who she is or who she can be?
“Would you rather be deaf or blind?” she asks randomly.
Never a dull moment with her. I’m lost in thoughts about the future of our potential relationship and she’s considering whether losing your eyes or hearing would provide more discomfort to her daily life.
“Hmm…Jesus, that’s hard as fuck,” I say, scrunching my face at the thought. “I need to see your beautiful body, but to not be able to hear your moans? Unacceptable.”
She giggles lightly, tracing a finger down my arm, following the chain of randomly placed tattoos. “Always about the sex.”
“Fuck it, I’d go blind. I can still feel your tits with my hands. The need to hear you scream is what gets me. I’ll gouge my eyes out right now if you’d like.”
“For me?” she asks with a hint of sarcasm.
“I’m fucking crazy,” I spit out with the most serious face. “Crazy as fuck for you.”
“But the question remains, are you crazy enough for me?”
“Is this a game? Truth or dare? Dare me, Han. Tell me what to do to prove my loyalty to you and I’ll do it. Anything.”
I must be making a weird face because she breaks into nervous laughter at my intensity.
“Chill, Kai. Smoke some weed or something,” she says with a grin in that beautiful, cracked tone.
I shrug and reach over her body, intentionally pressing myself against her in order to reach for the nightstand opposite her. I hear a small moan escape her throat and I’m instantly ready for round four.
Grabbing my favorite glass pipe from the drawer, I quickly pack a bowl on the edge of the bed, light it up, and sit back against the headboard. She joins me with excitement, crawling up to straddle my lap, wearing nothing but my old, oversized Linkin Park t-shirt and her black lace panties beneath.
I light it up, inhale deeply, holding it in my lungs before Han gives me the head nod to exhale into her. I blow into her perfect pouty lips, shotgunning my hit. It’s sexy as hell watching her inhale what my lungs just held, my insides touching hers.
Weaving a hand around the back of her neck, I stare at her as she stares back at me. The intensity and power of our attraction to one another could light cities. I tug her to my lips for a soft kiss. She kisses me back before pulling away shyly, grabbing the bowl from my hand and taking a few hits on her own.
We sit back, side by side now, our backs against the headboard as the high hits, and the warm, fuzzy feeling takes over.
“Better?” she asks.
Truthfully, I feel better. The weed calms my mind, slows things down a bit, gives me a sense of clarity with an overall sense of wellbeing.
“Better.” I grasp for her hand in mine.
I weave my large fingers through hers, holding her hand against my lap. We sit in silence for a while as my mind races through what comes next. I have to constantly remind myself not to smother her. Everything has to be so new to her, especially the idea of an actual relationship. Hamster.
“Aren’t I a tad strange to you?” she asks, turning to face me, cocking her head to the side.
“Strange?”
I can think of a lot of words to describe Han, but strange isn’t the first. Intriguing, mysterious, magnificent, stunning, sensual, one of a kind…
“I mean, you know things about me most people don’t.” She looks down, a frown forming.
“My place, for instance. No one’s been there.”
“No one?”
“No. No one but you.”
“And yet, I’m still here,” I say, staring back into her slightly confused eyes.
“That’s the part I can’t seem to understand.”
I get it. Her place would seem weird as fuck to anyone who wasn’t me. The obsession with death and the afterlife practically painted across the walls. I can’t imagine a person like Bran taking a walk through her wonderland, leaving with anything but a bus ticket outta town. But I’m not a fucking Bran. I’m Kid and she’s Jo.
“I like the dark parts of you, Han, almost more so than the light happy parts. Your darkness is the real, raw, unfiltered Han. And she sets me on fucking fire.”
She blinks quickly, looking down at our clasped hands. A sigh escapes her and it sounds like her heaviness is back, as if she’s determining if I can truly handle her and her secrets. Some sort of cloud is hanging over her still. She hasn’t let the pain of her past go just yet. That much is clear. But why does she still feel the weight of death the way she does? There’s more to her story, and I know she’s hesitant to let anyone read that chapter.
There’s a knock at my door.
My eyes quickly capture Han’s, then peer back to the door. A bit of panic rises in me, making my heart pound through my chest. Surprisingly, she’s cool as a cucumber.
“You gonna let them in?” she asks.
The knocking continues.
“Yo, Kid.” Hawke’s voice booms through the wood. “You up?”
I turn to face Han again where she’s relaxed in my t-shirt, her legs crossed at the ankles, one hand casually behind her head.
“You wanna get your clothes first?”
She wrinkles her nose while shrugging. “Nah.”
The pounding gets louder.
“Come in!” I call from my position on the bed.
Hawke opens the door and sees me. As the door widens, his eyes catch Han half naked next to me and his back hits the door with a thud.
“Oh fuck! Oh…my God,” he says, gasping while clutching the doorknob.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Cole’s concerned voice echoes from the kitchen.
By the panicked look in Hawke’s eyes, I can tell he hasn’t told her yet. This is about to get interesting. Cole approaches from behind him to see what the commotion is all about.
“OH HELL NO!” she screams, peering at us from around Hawke before covering her mouth with her free hand. “Did you fuck him?!”
The question is obviously directed towards Han. She looks over at me, then back at her sister.
“A few times.” Nodding casually, she toys with her bangs, straightening them out before looking back at Cole.
“What is this?! What’s happening?! Oh my God. Hawke, can you believe this shit?!”
Hawke swallows, his eyes wide as saucers.
Cole takes in his nervous demeanor before her mouth drops open, smacking him in the chest.
“You knew?!”
Oh shit. He definitely didn’t tell her.
“It’s not his fault,” I intercept this ball for him. “I told him I’d castrate him if he told you. And he really wants kids.”
“Wait, so you’re like…together?” she asks, her forehead wrinkling in confusion.
I wrap my arm around the back of Han and pull her into me. She looks up at me with her eyes narrowed, as if trying to configure in her head how to appropriately answer this question. It’s awkward. We haven’t discussed this. It’s too early for this conversation. It’s going to hamster her.
“Uh, well, we’re fucking on the regular, I guess. So whatever that is,” Han answers, shrugging.
“I’ll take it.” I let out a breath as my lip pulls up in the corner.
I turn back to face Hawke and Cole, giving them a huge cheesy grin, and don’t miss the warning glare that’s shooting toward Han. Cole is protective of me. I hate that I notice it. I hate that it makes my stomach twist into a small pretzel. I hate that even if it’s non-intentional, she’s so sure Han is going to fuck me over.
I hate that I know she will.
