Addiction/Affliction {M.Healy}

reflection/obsession

HELLLOOOOO. Sorry I have been MIA a bit. This chapter is short, but important. New update in a couple days. Love you all, so happy you appreciate this filth. LOOK AT THAT MILLION DOLLAR SMILE IN THAT GIF.

There was someone else staring at me, my reflection looking unfamiliar in the full-length mirror that hung in my bedroom. The cobalt blue eyes were sleepy, heavy-lidded, more experiences behind them as they scanned the naked body in front of them. The woman's skin was the same flawless ivory tone as mine, only there were tiny, precious bruises and bites all over her body- her hips, her collarbones, her neck, her inner thighs. Her mouth parted as she traced her fingertips against them, and the tenderness of the marks made her nearly mad, ravenous, like if she did not have him soon again she would combust into herself.

It was the middle of the next morning afer I had slept with Matty, and I'd left his apartment hours ago. Why did I still feel him inside of me? I felt his tongue tracing the soft flesh of my inner thigh and rolling against my wet desire for him; his fingers tugging at my hair and his hands grasping my hips to steady himself as he came inside of me; his lips at my shoulder just after this; his breath hot; his teeth sinking into my skin in a fascinating way that teetered betwen pain and pleasure.

My whole body had been lucid since then, limbs phantom, lips bruised, nipples sore, legs stretched too far. It had hurt. Just enough. I wanted it again, and then again, and I was terrified of this overwhelming feeing, this overwhelming need.

"Would you like more?" he'd asked me, after I'd finished the apple and plum pastry in his kitchen, the dark, sweet fruit much like the wine we'd drank straight from the bottle.

His eyes were lustful, still, hungry, still, and I knew he didn't mean dessert. I had nodded at him, and before I knew it, he had slammed me to the counter near the sink, the small of my back pressed hard against the countertop. A wine glass shattered to the floor, the deep crimson liquid in a dangerous puddle to the left of his feet. He had fucked me like time itself depended on it, not even bothering to take my panties off, rather shifting them to the side and immediately thrusting all of himself into me. Matty had done this with such skill, though it was so raw-- as hard as he could, as fast as he could, until my legs shook and a cry came from my lips.

Afterward, he had kissed me passionately, slowly, deeply, still inside of me though he and I had both came. When I had stood, I didn't know what if the liquid running down my legs was him, or me, but he had taken my hand and guided me down from the counter, and pecked my forehead quickly before cleaning up the wine and glass from the floor.

I just watched him, observed him, obsessed over him. How beautiful his naked body was in the glowly light of the kitchen, the beginnings of a morning sun beginning to peek through the blinds. How his eyes- the browns and golds and caramels- focused carefully on picking up the tiny pieces of glass and tossed them into the bin. How he had lit a cigarette and looked at me for a moment with a soft smile before he peched me onto his hip and lifted me over the area where the glass had shattered, the words "Careful, love" coming from his lips after a cloud of smoke.

Matty had sat on the edge of his bed, enjoying his cigarette as I tugged the material of his Slayer shirt closer to my body, lying on my side and watching him as he did mundane things like they were miracles. A scratch of the eyebrow, his hand through his hair, a crane of his neck, a quiet yawn from his lips. He'd put his cigarette out then, and ran his thumb across my knuckles before lying on his back and falling asleep quickly.

I couldn't sleep at all; I was far too stimulated with his aesthetic. The sound of his breathing made my heart flutter so much it scared me. How his lips were parted and his lashes so long they nearly grazed his cheekbones made me whimper.