Cigarettes and Valentines

Chapter 19

Michael's POV

Holy shit! 

Waking up to the incredible scent of Allison underneath me, was the best fucking thing I ever experienced, yet I felt the worst I ever had. I was sick. My stomach was rumbling and twisting and it felt like I was about to vomit every second.

My heart-beat was so low, that I took about 3 seconds for one single breath. 

Lying directly on top of her, I had my head pressed against her chest, watching my own shoulder rise and sink with each long breath as I listened to her beating heart right under my ear.

She had her hands tangled in the hair on the back of my head as I looked up into her face, studying the way her eyelids moved and twitched every once in a while caused by the dream she was having.

Utter perfection. God, she was beautiful. The hardly noticeable freckles on her nose, the hazel-brown eyebrows tensed in concentration but mostly these full, red lips.

Fuck, they were addicting. I didn't even care whether she was asleep or not. I had to taste them again, missing the indescribable flavor of passion. 

When I tried to lift myself off her to hover my face over hers, slowly lowering down on her, I stopped right before I was about to collide with her. What the fuck am I doing?

Where are my hands, after all? I wondered, letting my eyes wander down my arms, which were buried under Allison's back, tightly holding onto her body.

I felt my face twitch as I endeavored not to wake her up when I slowly pulled my hands back, numb from the ballast of our both bodies on them.

Supporting my weigh on my arms which were now on either side of her hips, I let one last look wander over her peacefully sleeping face before lifting myself off her completely as I quietly sneaked out of our bed. Our bed. The fucking bed we shared last night.

Sitting on the edge of the left side, my bare feet slowly stroking over the soft carpet underneath them, I buried my face in both hands, rubbing it in disbelief and frustration.

When I looked up at the wall, finding a mirror hanging there, I watched my bent bare torso move as I panted a suppressed sigh.

With one last gaze over my shoulder, reassuring that I didn't wake her up, I gathered my clothes from the floor, picking up the guitar on the couch as I made my way downstairs, desperately hoping that Charlotte was either fast asleep or gone.

No matter how much I hated myself for the fact, that I was unable to process this fucked-up feeling I carried around all along, I couldn't deny that I never wanted it to end. This whole vortex of anger, delightedness, passion, and addiction was simply a display how long I haven't expressed myself through violence. I didn't want to be violent - not at any cost and accordingly I had only one other thing how I was able to express myself through: Music.

Allison's POV

Incredible. That was the one word on my mind, when my senses were still dominated by Michael's cologne in the second I woke up.

I'd lie if I said that I wasn't hoping he was still around when I opened my eyes, missing his warm skin against mine. His hands. His breath. His lips. God, these lips.

Reminding myself, that Michael was still Michael Clifford, the one to be feared, under all these sweet emotions he showed from time to time, I accepted that he didn't want to waste further time with an unnecessary „Good Morning, how did you sleep?" or „How did you like the dry sex we had yesterday? Was it delightful, yes?"