But Too Well

XVIII : Awkward

Anyone else in love with Caleb? Even a little? ;)

***

"OH GOD, CALEB..."

"Shit, Rosalyn..."

I fall against him as we both reach a blinding, delirious finish, our skin hot as he holds me, my head nestled beneath his chin. Our bodies are tired and burning and pressed tightly against each other, slick and spent.

We breathe for a few moments and then I slide off of him, and he tugs me to his side, gently kissing my forehead, our chests heaving frantically for air. I moan into his neck, and he sighs, deep and satisfied, and between my legs there are still waves of bliss, a dull ache.

I tuck myself closer against his side when he pulls a blanket over us, and the feeling of my bareness against his is sinful and so incredibly addictive. Everything feels comfortable when we lay beside each other, his fingers threading themselves into my hair, a hand trailing languidly up and down my hip. I let my palm rest against the plains of his chest, lean and tanned, and I trace teasing circles across his smooth skin.

"We are very good at that," he mumbles against me, and I can feel his boyish smirk brushing the top of my head.

"Mhm." A small groan of agreement is all I can manage. I don't know how long it's been since dinner, but after another marathon of steamy, euphoric home-runs, my eyes are fluttering shut. "Very..." I yawn, and his laugh is a small vibration against my chest.

"You good?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

We both grumble when he gets up to switch off the lights, and when he climbs back under the covers, I rest my head on top of his chest, which is soft and hard and the perfect pillow. His heart beats beneath my ear, strong and sure, and he rests his hands on my waist, holding me like he can't let go.

After moments in the darkness, the thought that I have been suppressing for a while now settles at the front of my mind, keeping me hostage. With a sigh, I breathe, "How are you guys holding up with, you know...?" I fade off, but he knows exactly what I'm talking about.

He brushes his nose tenderly against the top of my head, pausing before he speaks. "We're fine, I guess." I feel him take a breath, heavy and tired. "It just sucks, you know?"

I turn so that our chests are flush, my chin resting just below his. Even though he can't see, I give him a supportive smile, my hands gently squeezing his shoulders, my eyelashes a soft flutter against his neck. "Well, I'm here if you wanna talk about it."

As soon as the words leave my mouth I feel strange, because I've been trying to avoid thinking about the whole thing, let alone talking about it. But from the ghost of a smile I feel, even through the darkness, I know he appreciates it, and he places a soft kiss against my the tip of my nose.

"If you didn't tire me out so much I would take you up on that," he jokes, and I return to my place against his side, marveling at the way we seem to fit together, rough and smooth, perfect. "You too, okay?"

"Okay."

Even as we fall asleep the whole thing still runs through my mind, and it's me and Caleb and Daniel and my dad and Nero, and it's frustrating, annoying, depressing. Unfortunate. I try to let Caleb's sleeping form comfort my erratic thoughts, but even as I slip out of consciousness, it's restless and not as easy as it should be.

•§•

THE AMOUNT OF times Caleb and I have sex throughout the week is astounding. We text each other teasingly during the day and see each other at night, needy and tireless.