Welcome to my lil corner of the world where I can throw all the hissy fits I want or I can share my most erotic passions with you. It totally depends on my mood.
As she rose out of bed, unhindered by the sheets, the world seemed to fall in on itself. It was a slight, though deft, disturbance—as if someone had begun to pull at the edges of time. They were, most certainly, quite careful not to tamper with the past. History, with its gossamer memories, was more of a mistake than anything else. He only remembered the good of it, coupled with a long-dead goodbye. And she only remembered what she desired but never got. Instead of dwelling on it, they had struck a truce. An armistice. It was, of course, just another euphemism for sleeping with the enemy. At the heart of their deliberate chaos was a soul-stolen truth neither of them would ever utter, a tea-soaked divination of love and desire. Something more akin to lust than lace.
He watched her stretch, casually, as if they were the only two people in existence. To some extent, that was undoubtedly true. Fire and air. One could not exist without the other, despite all efforts to the contrary.
She stood, naked to her toes, with her back to him. The shades banished all thoughts of reality, but a breath of sun still sneaked through. It warmed the carpet, but did not touch her face. Carefully, she shook out her hair, turning, slightly, to look at him. It was a familiar repose: lying in the bed, propped up by his elbow, a sly grin etched on his face.
Almost in retaliation, a slow, wicked smile stole across her features. It was as if she hadn’t intended to find him there, but was immeasurably pleased that she had. And he was quite convinced, at that moment above all others, that eternity had collected itself in the curve of her silhouette—namely, in the small of her back. And such secrets he was wont to find at the behest of her fingertips. Her body was brilliantly his. A stark adventure that was never the same twice. Everything about her always seemed to change. Even the way she smiled, deftly, as if everything could be broken, or remade, in the smallest of gestures. There was thunder in her heart, and sometimes it was closer than others. Every so often, he’d venture to hold it, only to find that he could not. There were burns on both their beings, from this trial-and-error. From this desire and defiance. None of it was a mistake—just a swallowed error.
He met her eyes in a fit of combustion, as if his very survival depended on her nearness. And she took a single breath, before falling back into that bed, where dreams were made and torn apart. Where souls were stolen and given. Where love knew no bounds, and lust no reason beyond thirst. It was destruction at its finest, though neither could bear to turn away.
