Running In Circles // pjm.

Pillowtalk

Our breathing stabilized in tandem, as if our tangled limbs connected our insides, somehow. A dim light shined in the room, but the man in bed with me shined brighter. My cheek and hand rested on his chest as the tips of his fingers daintily left contrails along on shoulder blades.

There were no barriers. Skin to skin, pale to tan, we stayed basking in each other's heat, not knowing where who began and who ended.

I sighed. What is this?

"It's late," he stated, feebly.

I hummed in response, turning my body away from his. I hadn't questioned our relationship, and that meant that either of us could do as pleased- not bound by the divides of commitment. It was confusing and liberating all at the same time and I didn't know what I wanted just yet.

He grasped my arm before I could turn away completely, guiding me to face him again.

"Hey," he turned to lie on his side, entirely facing me.

"Hey," I whispered back, instinctively.

He smiled, "say something."

"What?" I whispered. Our faces were inches from one another and yet somehow in that moment I felt like I was 100 feet away from him.

"What, what?" he ran his knuckles along my face.

"What do you want me to say?" I sighed.

"I want you to say what you want to say." He looked at me expectantly.

What?

"But I don't want to say anything," I defied.

"Okay, then," he muttered, turning around and rising.

"I'm going to get going." He added after 5 seconds.

He climbed off the bed and pulled on his clothes, not facing or looking at me.

I wanted to turn away. I didn't want to watch him leave but I couldn't take my eyes off him either.

He smoothed on his shirt and tossed his jacket over and shoulder and made for the door soundlessly, when I surprised myself by calling out after him.

"Wait," I sat up, clutching the bedsheet to my chest. My hair fell around my face.

He stopped dead in his tracks, not moving otherwise.

"I want- I- stay. I want... you to stay," I stuttered, admitting softly. More to myself than to him.

He turned around and eyed me for a handful of seconds. I blushed under his steady gaze and he dropped his jacket on the floor.

"You come by and then you leave," I began muttering, "you don't stay. You don't stay with me, so I w-"

He stormed on to me, taking my face into his hands and tilting my head backward to meet my lips, thankfully putting a stop to the sudden word vomit. His mouth was rough, greedy, as though it were rewarding me aggressively.
"Thank fuck, Tara, I thought you'd never say it," he whispered against my lips, eyes burning into me, "I'll always stay if you want me to, doll," he continued, caressing my cheek, "you just have to say the fucking words."

He climbed on top of me and the sheet fell away as he pulled off his shirt.

"Next time, say things when I ask, before I get dressed and do the whole dramatic exit," he said as I hooked my fingers in his waistband and bit my lip to suppress a smile.