[1] ALEXA, and her hell ✓ [Editing]

Urges ✓

Machine Gun Kelly, Camila Cabello — Bad Things
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"to touch is to experience, but to feel is to live." —Loren Klein
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The 23rd of January, Year 2024.

     It's just after midnight.

     Phillipeño smiles briefly, raising his hands to cup her cheeks; his smile falters in concentration as his thumbs brush over her closed eyes, before skimming lightly the sides of her round nose. "Wow, you're really cold." He breathes.

     "Shut up." She grunts in response, thinking of how humid she feels, yet he's saying otherwise.

     "Damn. Why are you so aggressive?" He mutters. His palms move airily over her jaw, thumbs circling her thin, pink lips; his fingertips reach out to her small, chiselled ears. "What colour are your eyes?" He asks, gently.

     "Sky blue and dark brown."

     "Is it the... Heti... Hetero...chromia... Heterochromia. Is it that?" He questions, remembering the day when Petro mentioned it. His hands trail down her neck and her shivers go unnoticed as he mumbles, "You're very beautiful."

     "It's heterochromia." She murmurs, folding her arms over her chest and stubbornly fighting the onslaught of impulses her nerves are sending in waves to her limbs.

     She feels hot and bothered, staring down at his face. The heat of her body is rising astoundingly, 'Do I still feel cold to him? It's warm though...' And she begins to get urges that have never crossed her mind before. Her hands are itching to touch the boy, although he didn't ask her to like he did her. 'Would it be okay?' She wants to pretend she's blind and touch him until the urges stop. She swallows, sweating nervously at the thought.

     Phillipeño senses her heightening discomfort because she won't stop fidgeting. "Lexy... Are you okay?"

     "I–I'm alright..." She strains to speak properly, becoming very much aware of his hands that are lingering on her forearms.

     His grasp tightens, "I don't believe that. You're burning up. Did you suddenly come down with a fever, or what?"

     "N-No, it's not that..." She tries to come up with an excuse, but ends up saying something close to the horrid truth. "I just... Are you done, 'cause you're too close."

     "I am?" He tilts his head upwards, forcing down a smirk as he immediately gets what's going on.

     For a long second, nothing but breathing happens. And, the longer they stay like this, the worse Alexa feels.

     She asks, "Why aren't you letting go?"

     "Hmm, do you not want me to touch you?"

     'Huh?' She inhales sharply, gasping, "I–what—?!"

     He holds her waist and hauls her onto the bed with him, at which she drops sloppily on his chest. He then pushes her onto her back and slouches over her.

     "What're you doing?!" She shrieks, looking from left to right and back at him frantically, tearing with nervousness.

     "I'm touching you." He says casually.

     At that, she grits out, "You... You said you weren't thinking anything dirty."

     He seems amused by her accusation. "I wasn't, but you were."

     "I wasn't either."

     He laughs lowly, "You weren't? Then please tell me, how we got here? And why you're behaving like this?"

     She falls silent, turning her head away as her voice gets lost in her throat. If she tries to speak, she fears it will only be a squeak. Heat turns her entire face red and when she exhales, it's as if she's releasing steam through her nostrils like hot air from a whistling kettle.

     Phillip says nothing else, letting out a heavy breath. He begins slowly, in case she wouldn't like it, inching his arms up her clothes and running his fingertips along her moist skin. His thumbs brush against her small, round breasts and she only huffs, staying still.

     He pauses his actions and suddenly utters with conviction, "I need to hear you say that you want me to."

     She peeks at him, cracking her eyes open slowly, frowning in confusion. "I thought you were just going to." She whispers.

     "I–Just tell me. Yes or no?"

     She looks away from him, blushing all over again. She mumbles, "I want you to, but it's weird."

     He hums.

     Getting the go ahead, Phillip wastes no time and runs his thumbs over her erect nipples, sliding his palms along the sides of her breasts. His mind follows his hands, adding texture beneath her clothes in the image already drawn of her. Downwards, his hands move, resting on her sharp hips before he gently pulls her closer, face going down to the crook of her neck. Alexa had closed her eyes instinctively, biting her bottom lip when his straight nose skimmed from her collar bone to her shoulder blade. Feeling her body rise and press to his, Phillipeño is getting excited and his breathing grows rugged. Urges, urges—his hands go around her bottom, outlining her firm glutes and he kisses the side of her neck ever-so-slightly. Urges, urges—he kisses her chest, hands moving down her plumb thighs by his sides and squeezing. Urges, urges—!

     "Phillip." Alexa heaves.

     He freezes, coming to his senses, breathing like he couldn't find his breath before.

     "Close the door. It's open."

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