Steppingstones: Trauma is a Bitch

Under ME

I lay on his bed, cuddled into his side with a blanket over us. I smile up at him. I'm so damn in love. He's everything. My life revolves around him at this point. Some people would say that's unhealthy, but I disagree. He's worth it all. And this is only the fourth real date. Only two months in. Some people say if it lasts three months, it's love. Well, I'm pretty sure this was love a long time ago. We're still new to this. Neither of us have had a real, actually, loving, deep relationship like this one before. But for a first love, a first attempt, I think we're doing so good. 

I tilt my head up to look at him. How can someone look so cute, so perfect to me? Yes, he has imperfections. But I love him for them. He's perfect in my eyes. He smiles at me, eyes gleaming through his curly bangs. I smile back. His smile has always made me happy. Since I first met him. Before I even knew him the way I know him now. Before I even wanted him. 

He leans down and kisses me, placing his lips on mine. I grin against his lips as he parts them. I eagerly let him in and his tongue dances with mine. He turns us so he's on top of me, legs to the side. His hands drift from my shoulders to low back as he pulls me closer. He starts planting kisses all along my neck and I gasp. I've had neck kisses before but not like this. Those felt forced and unprepared. I want these. I really want them.

He kisses along my neck, throat, and up by my ear. I can't breathe. It lodges itself in my throat with every touch of his tongue and lips. Quickly, he realizes I'm sensitive by my collar bone and the point where my neck meets my shoulder. His kisses press harder on my skin. My sounds seem to push him to work harder. Faster. One of my hands is clasped in his hair and the other had a death grip on the back of his black shirt.

He kisses contently for about ten minutes. His lips alternate between being on mine or on my neck and collarbone. Then, he makes a move. He shifts so his leg is between mine and I freeze. A sharp pang of panic pulses through me. I pull away. He looks concerned. I bet he's wondering what he messed up. Fuck. "The light is hurting my eyes. I'm going to turn it off." I say and stand from the bed. I take one step and flick off the light switch. I think we both know it's an excuse. A weak one at that. I don't know what just happened. It's probably nothing. I'm claustrophobic. His weight just scared me. It's fine. I'm okay. Everything's perfectly fine.

I take a deep breath and turn around. His arms are open, and I fall into them. He gently lays me back down and continues kissing my neck, tongue, teeth, and lips, all working together to create the pool of heat forming in my core. I feel like I can't breathe as I gasp softly. The sensations effectively push any thought of my stupid reaction out of my mind. I drag my fingers up and down his back as he kisses me on the mouth again, fast and hard. Holding nothing back. I don't even realize I'm doing it, but I've started rotating my hips against his thigh which ended up between my legs again. He doesn't stop, continuing to pepper me in kisses, tongue swirling across my hot skin, so I put the thought out of my mind. 

My shirt has ridden up my midsection and he notices. He pulls away and looks me in the eyes pleadingly. I give a shaky nod and he slips his hand under, running the pads of his fingers over my ribs. I shiver as my body reacts to the touch. Nobody else has ever touched me there. Nobody but him. And honestly, I love that he is the first.

He puts his lips back on mine, tongue instantly pushing against mine. As he kisses me, my hands run up and down his back. I finger the edge of his shirt before slipping my hands underneath. I run my hands all across his back. When he shifts his weight, I freeze. My whole body goes rigid with the weight of his body on top of mine. My eyes pop open and it feels wrong. So wrong. His lips are still against my collar bone, and he pulls away to look at me. He rolls off the other side and lays on his back. Shit. He must have seen the panic on my face. Fuck. I bite my lip. I don't want this to stop. I'm not ready for this to stop.