Highest ranking
#1 in utopia
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"It's about how your hips move," the hand that sits on my waist finds my hip, his fingertips trailing lightly along the fabric of my skirt. "When you arch your spine," he continues on, letting that same hand migrate...
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Back at it with the music. It's for the first part so knock yourself out.
———
Tap!
Despite me having been laid awake for hours now, I still cannot help being disgruntled by the repetitive tapping resounding from out on my balcony. Once or twice, I'd deem it to be a coincidence, but now, there must be an issue. A leaking drain, a nesting bird. Whatever it is, my patience has grated thin and just as I'm clinging to the tatters that remain –
Tap!
With a discontented groan, and the mumble of profanity, I push away my duvet and swing my legs out of bed, wrapping my silk gown around my frame as I make my way, with vehemence, to the balcony. The drapes that catch the wind just as I open the doors flare behind me, parting to allow me access outside, but I cannot move.
Frozen, simply from the sight that stands before me. Just like all those times before, air abandons me and the beating of my heart stutters, because he is here. Even in this darkness, the citrine of his eyes are ablaze, burning through the night focused solely on me. Still, they hold a warmth as he regards me, not scorned by the venomous words I inflicted, and that realisation brings the oxygen back to my lungs. He is not furious with me.
"Thought I'd check I had an invite." He then says in a humorous whisper, the corner of his mouth tilting into that smirk I have missed so dearly. Still, I can not find words, so I nod, and he begins his ascent. He stands before me in seconds, ignorant to the bite of the midnight breeze, as we simply swallow one another in. It has been only a week, but it feels as though I have been without him for far longer.
I want to remember everything should I lose him again. The angle at which his nose bends, the way a fine stubble decorates his jaw. Each unruly wave of hair, each striation of his iris. His smile, which he still regards me with, even now. Without much conscious thought, I lift a hand to cup his cheek, as if to certify that he is very much real, in front of me now, only a few inches away.
He lets me rest against his skin, even lets me eradicate the space between us as I reach up on the front of my feet and graze our lips together. I falter, anticipating rejection, but when his hand secures itself on my waist with a gentle firmness, I continue, kissing him slowly, tentatively, as I let each second ingrain itself in my memory, never to be taken for granted again.
He lets me be the one to pull away, but I do not go far, leaving only a hairbreadth of space between us as I continue to study his face. "I did not think you would come back." I say honestly.
"Well, I'm here." He murmurs.
"And I am very glad." I assure him in a whisper.
"I can see that." He muses through a grin. "You been getting intimate without me?" I want to frown, but I cannot seem to bring myself to do it, so instead I smile, letting my attention turn back inside. He follows my gaze and the pair of us wordlessly agree to continue this exchange in the safety of my bedroom. "So," he begins as he perches himself on the very end of my bed.
