Touch: Awakening

Part Fifteen

I'm awake. For the first time in days, I'm warm and dry, blankets tucked under my shoulders, and there's only the faintest throb of pain in my head. The sheets aren't damp with sweat, my skin isn't clammy. My cell is dark, no hint of dawn on the walls or ceiling, stars twinkling brightly. So why am I awake?

I'm facing Drew, his features blurred in the dark. I didn't bother with a tank top tonight, so his naked chest is warm against mine. His breathing is deep and even. Comfortable. Regular. It's sleep, actual sleep, not the force of being knocked unconscious by sensation overload. It's the perfect opportunity to trace the lines of his face, learn its textures, find the hard spots and the soft ones. His jaw is rough against the pads of my fingers, his brow smooth. I follow the straight line of his nose down to his mouth, and his lashes flutter, his eyes opening. "Hey," he mumbles.

I pull my hand back. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"'Sokay. What're you doin'?"

"Doing?"

He touches the tip of his finger to my lower lip. "Little disconcerting to wake to someone's fingers on your face." He grips my shoulder before I can roll away. "Stop. I liked it. In fact-" He glides his finger from my lip to my chin, following the line of my jaw. "It doesn't hurt," he whispers.

I'd shake my head, but I'm afraid to move. "Not really." The pain is negligible, something I'll put up with as long as he keeps his hands on me.

His face is close enough I can feel his breath on my cheek, heat trapped between us. How do people do this? Know when to move in for a kiss? How do people kiss in the first place? It looks so simple, pressing lips together, opening in perfect sync to allow the addition of tongues. It can't possibly be that simple.

I scrape my teeth over my lower lip and ease away, shifting onto my back.

"Alexis?"

There's a new constellation, a cluster of stars in the shape of an octagon. I search out others while I try to find the words to explain what's going on inside my head. The problem is, I don't know what's happening. Nothing in my life has prepared me for this. He's next to me, and we've discovered that finally, finally, touching doesn't bring us pain, and I know what should happen next and I don't know how to make it happen or if he wants it, too. Maybe this is nothing more than an experiment to him.

The bed shifts and gives, and he looms over me, blocking out the view of the stars. "Something wrong?"

Fuck it. I stretch up and kiss him.

For a long, long moment, he doesn't move. Embarrassment blooms, becomes mortification as I keep my mouth against his, desperate for a reaction and not sure what kind I want. I drop my head back to the pillow, twisting it to the side, away from him. Stupid. Stupid, dumb, and more stupid.

Strong, warm fingers curl around my chin, turning it so I'm staring at the ceiling again, and he settles his mouth over mine.

There's no pain. Only a strange, sweet warmth as we fumble through the kiss, clumsy as toddlers. We both tilt our heads in the same direction, noses bumping, lips glancing off one another. He makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and pulls away, tips his head to the other side, and comes back again. A short, sharp flicker of pain travels from my mouth outward, sending a signal I choose to ignore.

Like everything else we've done so far, there's this absolute certainty this is right. I was always supposed to have Drew next to me, mostly naked, my partner in "firsts". First touch, first kiss. First sexual partner. Mouths notched together, we get the pressure right as the first link in my brain fizzles and pops, and I jerk away with a gasp as spots swim in front of my eyes. And after a minute to breathe, I dive in for more.