Gasoline ~ Daniel Ricciardo

04| Bedsharing

The moon had taken temporary refuge under a passing cloud and its absence, I feel his hands on me. The coarse, yet gentle skin of his strong hands creeping up my sunkissed arms. Unsatisfied with the skin it met, he slides his palm over the pulse in my neck, and lets his grip rest around my throat - warning me that he could clamp down - a dangerous game to play with me. He rests there for a moment, as if uncertain, and I see his gaze, dark and dangerous - his full intentions shrouded by the moon - and my hands itch to touch his golden skin. To touch him.

We were so exposed here, our intentions and our bodies on display for any passerby to see, and the further out we went, the more difficult it became for me to stand on anything. I wrap my arms around his neck and wait for him to hoist me up and lead me back to where I can actually stand without fear of drowning. The inky water itself was warm, inviting and safe despite the cooled night air, and it coats the pair of us in salty water which conceals our nude bodies.

Our fellow grid mates laze on the shore, covered in towels and drenched in the familiar sweat from the cooling night air. I can see their faint faces, doused in warm firelight with bottles of alcohol in their hands - each telling stories from their lives and finding comfort in each other - and they hadn't yet realised that me and Daniel weren't with the rest of them.

He wraps my legs around his torso and wades the pair of us back to shore, his hand now on the base of my skull whilst he uses his other arm to brace me into his chest. I could tell that he didn't want us too close to them, the things he'd whispered in my ear and the way his breaths were rapid and unsteady reinforced that for us. He rested my head on his shoulder, and I placed a soft kiss on his skin; which tasted like sunshine and saltwater, and he stopped his movements.

I look up at him, the ringlets of his coffee brown hair were dripping with salt-tainted water, the saturation from them proving too much for the strands to hold onto. I watched a drip as it fell down onto his nose, tracing the crooked bridge and gracing over the light peppering of freckles that the sun had brought out, and it settled onto the tip of his nose before it dropped down onto his top lip. I felt his hand on the back of my neck as he glided me towards his lips.

The taste of salt water and wine depart from his lips and dance along mine, the combination making me feel lightheaded and drunk on the heaviness of his kiss. I realise the implications of what we are doing, and yet I can't bring myself to stop it as he is the first to pull away. His chest heaving. His eyes wildly dancing over the men on the shore as if they had called out to us, but they hadn't.

"Daniel," I whisper, my lips parted and skin cooled by the light breeze.

Suddenly, the moon reappears, freed from its cloud prison and kisses Daniel's face in a way that makes me want to hold my breath or take a photo to savour the iridescent beauty that is his smile in the moonlight.

I was able to stand again, not that I wanted to because of how his grip dug into my skin, it makes it harder to separate from someone too. And god, he is so gorgeous right now I just want to fuck him. Does that make me an awful person for wanting to fuck my enemy? surely not...

Our lips crashed once more, this time with such intensity that made us want to press them together harder and harder until we became one person. But that was impossible, so here we are, grasping at each other like our lives depend on it because in a way it seems like it.

My fingers curl over his chest, the smooth tan skin a stark contrast to my pale, moonlit skin. There are no tattoos on his chest, an area completely void of personality but so full of it at the same time. I feel his heart beating rapidly, and I wonder if he can feel my own pulse drumming through my fingers like electricity.