Run While You Still Can

30. Sweat and Addictions

I blame malakeyegod for this chapter...
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Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

The wooden base of his bedframe banged over and over in the wall, inserting itself in the drywall at every thrust. There was no saying where we started and finished, our bodies mangled in one. I had lost count of how many rounds we were at but it appeared endless.

Every time we stopped to rest, the desire would awaken one of us. The longest time we had spent asleep had been perhaps 20 minutes. My entire skin was burning, bruised and bloodied yet I couldn't find the will power to stop.

Droplets of blood splattered on my chest as he pounded me harshly, his hands knotted in my messy hair holding me back so he could kiss me. Our lips were blistered, tiny blotches of dead skin ripping off every time his teeth grazed them.

His back was deeply mutilated, my nails digging in the wounds in hopes of bringing him even closer to me. His blood had snaked down around my arms, staining the gray sheets for the thousandth time.

Even if it hurt, even if my entire body ached and begged me to stop, it taunted me to continue. It physically hurt me to be away from him for too long. My raspy voice would protest, my nails clawing out in a desperate attempt to keep it close. But it was the same for him.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed with difficulty, my damp silk sheets clinging to my skin. I had to grab the side of the bed to stop the wave of nausea coursing through me. I needed air, I needed to breathe something other than the sweet, sweet smell of sex. It filled the air, tainting the walls forever.

I stopped myself from looking back to him, knowing very well that one look at him and I was gone. My body would refuse to leave the blazing sheets, melting back to the orgasm fueled puddle I had been only a few moments earlier. I needed air, I needed to breathe.

I forced myself up, my legs trembling under me. I stumbled to the side until I could grab the bedside table for support. My lungs were collapsing, craving, begging me to go back. Like they were refusing to work until I went back in his embrace, throwing myself back into another endless round.

Air. Please, just give me air.

I heard him breath in loudly behind me and I froze, afraid to awaken him. His skin ruffled against the silk, moving around what I deduced was my spot. He was looking for me in his sleep, desperately trying to bring me back to him.

I forced another step forward, my legs dragging behind me like I was carrying the weight of the world. The air left my lungs, my heart tearing at every step.

I tried making another step but a smoldering powerful arm snaked around my waist. He growled in my ear, my toes curling on their own. My body molded itself against him, all previous plans of leaving out the window. How could I leave when it simply felt so good, so bad, so hot and so tempting?

Without a word, without a look, we were thrown back into another furious round. We yelled our unexpressed anger and desire at each other without words. Sometimes going slow, sometimes going fast but never ever easy. There was no kindness, no sweet words.

When I was brought back to reality, floating down ever so slowly from cloud nine, I simply laid there. I watched light procured from the moon play around in the darkness. I had watched many sun rises and many sun sets from above his broad shoulders, so many that I had lost count. How many hours had passed by? How many days? Weeks, maybe?

My head rolled, my gaze casting on his sleeping features. He was as crusted, as dirty I was, if not worse. The exhaustion was evident in the way his back slumped back down at every inspiration. His body had been through so much lately, how could he be still functioning? How was he not dying from exhaustion?