The stag hunt with the scarlet heart

Chapter 24 "We want to hide the implications of pain and suffering"

Something is wrong with me. I just know it.

Atlas and I have been together for so long, and it's never happened. Sex. Lately, I find myself thinking about it so much. About everything. Especially about our bodies together, about his arms stretching and bending around me. I find myself beyond obsessed with the way his lips bite on mine when he touches me. We've both reached that point. We end up together. But it never happens. Even though touching us like that is sex? I don't know, but I really love it when his lips arc and curve with the words, «You're mine». It's really embarrassing not to do it because of me. I'm a certified weirdo.

I haven't written about it, I didn't know if it made me a heathen or a sinner to feel all this. But I have to get it out of my head.

His eyes are always on me. It doesn't matter where we are, in church, at school, or on the street. If I am near him, he's looking at me. The strange phenomenon that happens when we're close to each other has only grown, it's as if it will never stop. When we're together, when we kiss, it's like our senses merge.

Well, even without the strange phenomenon, it would be hard to take my lips off him. He makes me feel safe, his body seems to be growing a few inches taller and a few inches wider every day. His eyes are getting richer and brighter, and his crooked smile only manages to make the butterflies in my stomach more violent.

For him, there's no one else but me. I know that.

A few days ago, we were laughing, and he swooped down and kissed me. I sighed into his mouth, and he hummed into mine. It was a kiss that I'd been waiting for all my life, or so it seemed. I ran my hands all over his body, his shoulders, his chest, his stomach. He did the same. His big hands moved all over my back, and my waist, lifting my dress. His fingers pinched the flesh of my ass and traveled up my thighs, forcing me to lift my leg and wrap my calf around his hip.

Moaning, he touched my cheeks and moved my face every way he wanted so he was able to deepen the kiss. I don't know how long our lips collided, but when we came up for air, we were rocking and my hands were under his shirt, my nails digging into his stomach.

We were drawing in large amounts of foggy, hormone-laden air. Somehow, I could feel his heart beating against the palm of my hand. His erection pressed against my sensitive spot, making me realize how long I had longed for him.

I moved against him, my fingers itching to feel him. He shuddered when I touched him, clenching around me. The pleasure down there was sharp, so sharp, like a fist pressing down on my pelvic area. His jeans scratched so nicely against my thighs.

'This is it. This is the moment. I want to go all the way,' I thought.

But my thoughts changed when his hands came to my waist and squeezed. He was coming, and I remembered my mother, her strokes, and especially her words.

There are so many marks on my body. And I couldn't. I let him come and his chest calmed. I moved away. Because I'm an idiot.

"Bucky? Fuck, was it... was it too much?" He asked with concern marking his features, the lines that always formed on his jaw.

I grabbed hold of his shirt to keep my balance, but he was so insecure. Eyes wild and chest heaving. He grabbed my dress around my waist, pressing against the tender skin. He let go of me when I tried to pull him away with tears in my eyes. His room became small and suffocating.

"I..." I fell back on my heels and wrapped my arms around myself, massaging the injured area, trying to ease the pain. Atlas' eyes grew even more frenzied.