Ripped Tights (Alex Turner from the Arctic Monkeys)

Part 4

Breathing in and out.
In and out.
Looking at the floor.
Looking at the ceiling.
There's an interesting patch.
I wonder how it got there?
Is it red or orange?
How long has it it been there for?
Thoughts rush through my brain like the current of a river, bubbling uncontrollably to the surface.

I reach him, looking at his shoes. His scent fills my nostrils. My eyes scan upwards until they meet his. The arm that was bent on the door frame waves something in my face.

"I'm assuming...yours?" Words roll off his tongue as he gestures to my jacket.

I search his face before I take it from him.

"Thanks." I mumble.

Silence fills the hallway. Tension spilling from us like gasoline. Anticipation like a match.

It goes on for almost too long. As if he expected me just to turn and leave.

His hand reaches out and tucks a flyaway hair behind my ear. His fingers trace my jawline, then my mouth and then he stops at my chin. He lifts it upward and bends slightly so as to be level with me. I feel my cheeks burn red. He smiles.

Our lips. So close. Static dancing on the surface.

He pulls back. My balance is off and I lean into him. He steadies me with a hand on my waist. He looks down and chuckles.

"I like your tights." He says, pinching the fabric and releasing it.

I join him in looking at my tights. My favourite pair - black fishnet with a snake wrapping around both legs.

"Thanks...they're my favouri-" Is all I can manage before air hitches in my throat - almost like a hiccup. My face turns a deeper shade of crimson.

He laughs and pulls my waist closer to him. Pressed against one another. I can feel his heart beat on my chest and I'm sure he can feel my own, hammering out of my rib cage.

He places each hand on either side of the base of my my head. His thumb stroking my cheekbones. Looking deeply into my eyes. Searching for answers. Satisfied, his eyes flutter closed. My hands on his chest, fiddling with his buttons. Breaths, uneven and shallow. He dips his head and presses his lips on mine. The fire erupts. My mouth parts for him. Our tongues find each other. He tastes just as he smells. I push myself upward. On my toes. He breaks away, leaving a trail of kisses down my jaw to my neck and collarbone. A whisper of fingertips follow along. He tugs one of my legs up to rest on his hip. His hand on my thigh. He returns to my mouth. My hands are in his hair now. Drawing patterns with his tresses.

He pulls himself away and leans backwards.

"Want to come in?"

Slightly overwhelmed and highly aroused.

"Yes."