New York Nights

Angel Kisses

His lips filled my body with magic again.

I saw the City with the same eyes that absorbed the sights and sounds on their first time arriving here. The Christmas feel in the air added to the special giddiness and spring in my step that oozed confidence.

Sloane and I strolled once again with comfort and ease as we always did, yet now it was more special. I clung onto his hand with the intention of never letting him go. The way he smiled at me - silent and filled with warmth - told me he wanted the same. The feel of it made me nostalgic.

"Remember when I used to call you Angel, because of your middle name?" I chuckled softly.

"Remember? How could I forget?" Sloane returned the giggle, "You might as well have put it on my birth certificate. Those were the days: high school. I miss it sometimes."

The two of us only looked off into the night, bathing in the air of these new emotions. The neurotransmitters flooding the back of my head that hadn't flowed in such a long time gave me a deep warmth, despite the chill of the midnight air.

We made our way back to my apartment building, walking past Christmas trees tied up and lining the streets with strings of white lights hovering above them. The salesmen had all retired into their homes as it was approaching one thirty in the morning. The blackness of the sky and silence of the residential district was interrupted only by stray taxis carrying the precious, intoxicated cargo of the night.

The two of us reached the door, and he spun me as I climbed one of the steps. This allowed me to be eye-level with him, and I felt his face mere centimeters away from mine. I saw the depths of his navy blue eyes that seemed to wave and crash onto the shore. The oceans were fierce. They roared with desire, all trace of calmness gone. Everything was desire, all of him was consumed in a sea of lust.

"Where can we go?" He whispered in a rough, husky tone as he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me into him. He kissed me short and hard on the lips, leaving me dazed.

My words stumbled out of my mouth, "M-my room is on the fifth floor, you know th- that-," I gasped as he ran his hands from my cheek down to my neck, kissing it briefly.

"That's too far," he replied, seeming somewhat agitated at the fact, "I need you now." His lust continued to demand him to touch me: from my side, to my waist, to underneath my layers, returning back to my neck.

There was a staircase that I knew of. It lead nowhere. My mind rushed from one thought to another, and I recalled the location of the stairs, as I once found myself at the top of them - there was no door there.

"Follow me," I said at once, opening the door to the small lobby, and leading him by the hand with haste. The door to the left, I knew.

Once inside, Sloane took hold of both of my wrists and pinned them above my head onto a wall. I moved my head aside, allowing the tall figure to lean down and kiss me on my neck and collarbone. A shiver was sent beautifully down my spine, and I had goosebumps form on my skin that had absolutely nothing to do with the temperature.

The feel of his lips and slight scruff of his bearded chin made its way slowly upward and found my lips again, and he pressed his weight up against me. Another wave of shivers was sent downward, but not through my spine, and I concentrated solely on the flick of his tongue that married so naturally with my own.

He broke away suddenly and breathlessly, yet his navy blues were still brimming with lustful intention as he refused to break eye contact. He felt around, unzipped my jacket, slipped off my cardigan, and felt the curvature of my body over my last layer.

As he did so, I - naturally - quickly questioned the situation. This was my best friend. I'd known him through the worst and best years of my life. And now we were here, feeling the same lust and love for each other, as if a dam had just caved in, and the water was flowing freely with such speed and force, quenching readily the ever so dry land from which the barrier was built.

I knew there was no more hiding it. So I pushed him away, and sat him down on the second stair. I straddled him, looked down on his beautiful face, and kissed him deeply. More, more, that was all I wanted.

"Let's go," he exhaled, scooping up my jackets from the ground. The two of us exited and rushed up the appropriate staircase that led to my door. While I fumbled with the mass of keys, he didn't exactly make the task simple - as his hands roamed in whichever way they pleased - until I finally opened my door. I nearly fell into the room before Sloane took me into his arms again.

"Ley," he whispered. My name sounded different. It was a dull roar, a mirror of the waves in his eyes, and it fueled the flame going inside of me.

"Yes?" It was all I could manage as we stumbled through the apartment.

"Do you want this?" Sloane added through breaks in our kiss, "Do you want me?"

I answered him simply with a push onto my bed and a kiss that melted the two of us into one figure, desperate for the attention of the other. The night harbored a magic that filled inside of me in ways that I had never thought possible.

Sloane and I fell asleep in each others' embrace long before the sun began to morph the sky into stunning colors that neither of us were able to see. The blanket covered half of our bodies. He had wrapped his arms around me, and I fit with the tall figure as if I were meant to be there.

And if you had asked me, I would tell you just that: I meant to be there.

---

My eyes blinked open softly to the touch of a gentle hand on my cheek. I woke up to the small smile that played on Sloane's lips; his thumb stroked ever so delicately the length of my jawline. His eyes said everything I knew he would try to say, as they always did. The blue oceans had calmed, and his eyes looked simply perfect staring there into mine. I returned his smile.

"You know, " I said very softly, my voice just above a whisper, "I didn't get to answer your question last night. And the answer is, yes. Yes I want you, of course I do. Every night... Every morning. I want you. Not just for what we did last night, but for all of my life. And that is my truth. You're my Angel."

He simply drunk in the words and I saw that it comforted him.

He raised up his hand delicately to my face and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"In that case, I think you may have gained a few freckles since yesterday," he whispered, "Would you like a few more?"

My mother used to say that each freckle was a kiss from an angel; I believed her.