"Please,-" He moaned into my flesh. His tattooed hand caressed my just below my ribcage, creating butterflies in my stomach, "Or is this as close as you'll let me taste?"
"Remember this feeling," My breath hitched and I felt like I was loosing balan...
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I felt grounded in the mound of pillows surrounding my half woken body. The linens hugged to protect me in sleep. Strings of tangled hair spread across the white pillow like an abstract painting. Each of my joints felt weakened by the previous day. My body took a second to adjust across the mattress, feeling the dip accommodate my weight. There was a thick layer of dust across the floorboards that I felt dislodge.
Secluded in a sea of hardwood flooring, the mattress was in the center of the living room, placed directly on the ground. Surrounding the bed was an array of books, lighters, scrapped magazines and laundry. Cardboard boxes seemed to line each corner of the shoebox apartment. My hand ran along the floor to collect a thin layer of dust, before blowing the specs off the ridges of my finger. It felt too painful to bring my head away from the pillow. My chest was tight with residual anxiety from the night before, but I felt at peace in this new surrounding.
There wasn't much light, except the piercing snow that brightened the cloud covered sun and reflected into the windows.
There was a soft hum created by few strings, plucked by him. To the left of the mattress was a shirtless Harry, clutching a guitar while recalling some notes. Whatever he played had a subtle melody. He sang with a soft tone, accompanying his strumming with lyric. On top of the guitar was a small black booklet, a similar size to the bible he carried. Harry in-scripted notes between chords.
"You passed out pretty quick," Harry sunk into the bed alongside me, placing the guitar across the floor. I felt his weight submerge and dampen down the fluffy comforters.
He was quick to stash away his notebook, forever guarding the memos he wrote.
"It's so dark-" I croaked through my weakened morning voice. There wasn't a single overhead light in use, or hum of heating and electricity.
"Power went out a few hours ago," Harry responded, "Massive snow storm hit."
"How long have we been here?" My hair draped down my body as I lifted up to sit.
"12 hours in New York, but we left the art museum around 8 a.m.,"
"And you still have a tongue ring," I pointed out, noticing the silver bulb as he talked.
"Still do," He grinned just enough to conceal the piercing.
"You'll have to tell me why you got that, one day,"
"I'm sure you'll see, gem,"
There was an indisputable flutter in my lower belly. I felt an ache in my pelvis that couldn't be soothed. It felt like an insatiable hunger.
Around us were thin candles, held in their respective gold holders. Their wax dripped to the floor, creating soft pools on the hardwood. I let their flame entrance me. My eyes grew fixed on the ultraviolet light. The center of the flame was the brightest white possible, while flickers of orange ringed around. I felt a pull to touch the flame, but I stopped before hurting myself.
