blackheart ➵ m. clifford

➵ seventeen

I changed the end (sorry) (if you're reading this for the first time it doesn't matter)

➵ jett

When I wasn't with Michael, it was like there were transparent hands around my neck and clasping my throat and gripping my windpipe, but I loved the way he let me breathe instead. He was a glimpse into heaven and a little taste of bliss. Chemicals tainted my blood and my bones and I needed to taste his lips again.

I watched as his pencil scratched across the surface of his sketchbook, leaving ghostly lines across the pallid white paper. Red hair was spiked in every direction, falling down over his forehead and into his eyes, and his full lips were pursed as he glanced from the paper, to me, and then back again. Michael's eyes on me made my skin burn and tingle, and I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to feel his skin touching mine, I wanted to savour it.

"Michael?" I choked out softly, averting my eyes from the myriad of letters and numbers that adorned the page of my textbook. His eyes bored into mine with a twinkle, and his lips were curved up into a smile. I dipped my tongue out to wet my lips, my teeth tugging at the flesh before I lifted myself up onto my knees.

"Huh?" He breathed, his smile slowly vanishing as I moved as close as I could get to him without climbing into his lap. Eyes flicking down to my lips, his breath fanned across my cheeks as I curled my fingers around his forearm and brought his hands towards me. I could feel his pulse beneath his skin, and his heart was beating so fast. "What?"

"Just..." I started, guiding his fingers towards the hem of my sweater and dipping them just beneath the material. A jolt of pleasure surged through my skin as his palms caressed my skin, and I tried to move impossibly closer as I lost my breath. "I want you to do something for me."

Laboured breaths poured out of him as his palms explored inch after inch of my skin, roaming the curve of my side and tracing the swell of my breast until he was heaving and his hands were shaking. He was mewling like a kitten and I don't think he realised it, pawing at my flesh and taking stuttering breaths while his cheeks flushed a vibrant shade of red and his eyelids fluttered, my back moving away from him as I peeled the jumper from my limbs.

This was my favourite Michael; raw, bare and vulnerable. His skin was red and his blood was rushing though his veins, and his groans were raspy and broken. His eyes didn't once leave mine, his nose brushing gently against mine and his lips aching to catch mine in a kiss, his arms furling around my waist and pulling me right into his chest. There wasn't an inch between us, and as our blood turned thick and hot with chemicals, I whispered something that made us both whine.

"Michael, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls." I tangled my fingers in his hair, and he let out a heavy, shaky breath that lay warm on my chest. "I want you to know every curve and every freckle. I want you to know me."

"I want you." He whimpered softly, his body moving forward and his teeth catching the skin of my jaw. The feeble sound made my ears twitch and my thighs clamp around his waist.

"T-taste." I sighed, gripping his chin between my thumb and forefinger and prying his lips apart, leaning forward. I kissed him slowly, taking a deep breath in through my nose as my hands moved to cup his face in my palms, holding him closer than I ever had. His fingers pulled at my skin in fervour, gripping at my waist and my hips and at my chest and he couldn't hold me close enough. He tasted like defiance and innocence, smoky and sweet.

Everything I was feeling and everything I had ever felt was in this kiss, from the sadness that diseased my brain, to the euphoria that coursed through my veins. Michael was ecstasy and lust and rage and timidity and I wanted him to be mine. I wanted these kisses to be ours and I wanted him to want that. His lips moved with mine and I could feel his fingertips leaving prints on my hips and I knew he didn't want to let go. He wanted to bruise my hips with art and taint my throat with a masterpiece.