sex, drugs, and Isaac Newton (newtmas)

chapter 4 - the daydreams

they came softly at first, ones that didn't mean anything. things like me impressing his friends or being extremely 'cool', fluent it the language of casual wit.

then I became fluent in another language: love. we danced in an empty ballroom, the ghost of a party still lingering in the air, as he gracefully lead me round echoing hall, and unknown corners of my soul.

now on a beach, his face close to mine his thumb on my cheek, I lean in and we kiss.

we're transported to a rooftop, still kissing. I imagine myself pushed against the cold metal of the railings, as the kiss deepens, as we dance a new dance, with new, harsh, rules. his hand against my chest, the other around my wrist, his nails digging into my skin.

now at a party, the deep beat of the music in time with my chest. people are all around me, but I take no notice. I see the boy in front of me, his arms around my neck, leans in. this kiss is different, not with the person, or characteristics, but with the motive. he kisses deeply, hungrily, pushes me against a chair. we move together, as one body, tangled in a mass of limbs. one hand moves up, into my hair, and the other, down my back. it lingers there, for a few moments, before going up,under my shirt, touching my bare skin.

I gasp, sweating, my head back in real life. I let go off the sheets I'd been clutching and relaxed, my head swimming with remnants of thoughts I didn't know I could think. I look to my left, at the digital clock on my bedside table. it reads 1:00 pm, great. trying to sleep would be useless, so I lie back in the dark, running over my previous thoughts. I can't remember them, not deeply, anyway. of course, they weren't real, I couldn't feel them like they would actually feel, describe them in any real detail other than meer fact.

sleep came easier than expected.