SLOWLY BEING REWRITTEN!
People say we're products of our parents. that all of their good traits are passed onto us, that we pick up the bad traits along the way.
But what if our parents have no good traits? What does that make us?
Are we all bad?
K...
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tattoo
Two bodies crashed through the bedroom door, slamming it shut behind them. With the loud music booming through the entire house nobody could hear the loud slam, nor had they noticed how the walls around them had shaken. And if they had, they were too intoxicated to care. They all were, that was how they had got in this predicament. Nobody had been there and sober to stop what had begun in the kitchen and what had now worked itself to upstairs, to the room that she had been staying in for the past few weeks since summer had begun. There was nobody to ask whether the two would wake up and regret their decision or if they had gone one tequila shot too far. A gasp escaped the brunette girl's mouth as her back was pressed against the cold wall, her legs wrapping around his waist as he lifted her up. While her hands brushed through his hair his traveled up her exposed legs, slowly working their way beneath the hem of her black silk dress that she had opted to wear for tonight's party. One of many summer parties hosted by the girl and her redhead best friend. Every inch of her body fired up beneath his touch, it was magnetic, what she had been craving, she couldn't pull herself away, and maybe it was those shots of tequila talking but she didn't want to either. All of the angst that the two had felt for the past few weeks all built up into this moment where the two were unable to tell right from wrong or make sensible decisions. It was summer, they didn't care about sensible decisions. The whole point of being a teenager in summer was to make mistakes and when school came back into session, to ignore them, act like they never happened.
The thin spaghetti straps of her dress draped over her shoulder as his hands moved up to her back, craving to get closer to her as if it were possible to get any closer than they already were. Kinsey pulled her lips away from his for a split second, even that was too long, she pulled the black dress over her head as he continued to hold her up, refusing to gain too much space between them. As soon as they had heard the piece of fabric land on the bed across the room the two had resumed the passionate kiss between them.
His fingers caught in her long brown curls as he reached for the nape of her neck, her teeth caught on the bottom of his lips. The two split again as Kinsey tugged at the bottom of his shirt, prepared to pull it over his head and throw it across the room as they had with her dress, but he wasn't willing to waste the time fiddling with the article of clothing again. He pressed his body against her harder, hard enough that he didn't need hands to hold her up, with his now empty hands he ripped his shirt to pieces, allowing it to fall at their feet before he quickly placed his hands on her again. She let out a low moan, over the past few weeks their tongues had become familiar with the other's taste, after multiple hook-ups whenever they had gotten the chance. Whenever Peter and Derek had dared to leave the two of them alone, or whenever Lydia hadn't roped the girl into another shopping trip. Every chance the two of them had gotten they had ended up in this predicament, but something was different about this one. It was their first drunken hook-up, but that wasn't it. This wasn't as meaningless as the rest of the hook-ups had been. Their touch was more craving, kisses more passionate, the minds foggier than they usually were. She'd wanted him before, she had had him before, but this was different somehow.
