All Damn Day | Post Malone

Chapter 10

Sophie

She hadn't been expecting it to feel this...pleasant.

She supposed she hadn't really expected anything, honestly, because she had been too caught up in the implications and mechanics of the impending activity to actually think about how it would feel. She'd been too caught up with the shoulds to really give proper thought to the hows. She hadn't thought about the sensation of soft lips on hers or how it would feel to have big, warm hands on her body. She'd thought of this purely as a theory, and now that that theory was happening, the reality of it was...sigh.

It was heaven.

She didn't know if it was because she was being touched by him or if it was just because she was being touched by anyone, but every gentle pull of his lips and every caress of his hand on her arm felt like she was melting in the sweet summer sun.

She was nervous at first, but she holds onto the safety net of being able to change her mind, and the reassurance of that frees her just enough to be able to sink into him.

He kisses her just a little bit deeper, and he tastes like beer and cigarettes but there's something else there, too, and it makes her want to keep his tongue in her mouth for as long as she can just so she can determine what it is. She mentally pinches herself after the thought because when she woke up this morning she certainly hadn't pictured making out with someone by midnight, let alone the person she was making out with, and the concept of that is nearly enough to make her shiver.

She doesn't know how long they've been doing this for—she only knows it's been long enough for them to gradually slide down the headboard until they're laying sideways on the bed, the front of their bodies pressing together just enough for her to feel how solid his form is. He's not muscley, she can tell, but that's part of his appeal, because even though he intimidates her with his outgoing-ness and his importance and his overall magnetism, his body doesn't intimidate her the way it would if she was with a body builder.

She's attracted to it, of course— she loves that he's soft but strong and handsome without being chiseled—but it doesn't make her insecure or afraid.

At least, not in the way one might think.

She's more afraid she won't know what to do with it, how to handle it, how to touch it. She wants to make him feel good, too, but she doesn't want to make a fool of herself and god she's never even done this much so how is she supposed to know where to put her hands? Right now they're kind of just resting on his chest but they're not really touching him at all and she's very aware of how they hover over his body like anxious hummingbirds, her heartbeat skipping in her fingertips.

She's even more aware of where his own are on her—one fitting over the curve of her waist while the other is formed against her neck, his fingers tangled in her hair—and every time his thumb brushes against her jawline it makes her heartbeat skip again.

His lips slow against hers—not that they'd been moving fast, per se, but they'd certainly been moving—and he pulls back from her with a soft smack echoing throughout the otherwise silent room.

She opens her eyes to see him looking back at her, his own open yet hooded like he didn't want to stop what he'd been doing but had needed to for one reason or another.

"Are you okay?" He asks gently, his voice hoarse and cracking around the edges where his pitch raised in the form of a question.

She nods—two quick up-and-down motions of her head—and her lips briefly flick up in a shy smile. "Yeah," she says, but her voice is caught in her throat so it comes out too quietly. She clears it before repeating herself, just to make sure it comes out at a volume he can hear this time. "Yeah, I'm good."