Give Me That Body (Oneshots)

You're a Mess (Quinn - October 30, 2012)

"You're a mess. Take off your sunglasses," I said.

Leis went still in the driveway, dappled by the shade of the oak trees overhead. He tipped his chin up to look at me on the porch steps. "I will not suffer such a greeting. Such a greeting," he said, accent thick in anger.

"Now in English," I said. 

He said something else I couldn't understand, and threw his keys. 

"Why haven't you brushed your hair? You look like you've slept outside," I said, laughing. "Your shirt is wrinkled."

He whipped his sunglasses off and leveled me with a narrowed gaze. 

"How are you going to find your keys?" I asked, unable to stop laughing. 

"Darkling, I have driven hours to come home to you," he said, hands in his hair, emotional. "I have not slept at all, anywhere."

"Poor sweet baby," I said, and gestured for him to come to me on the porch. "I can't come down there now, beauty. I like it up here in the dark." 

He took in a deep breath, as if deciding whether or not to be angry, and then began to walk again, tapping his sunglasses against his hip. "Cigarette," he said.

I went into the house to get them a moment, screen door swinging shut behind me, and when I went out again, he had sat himself down on the porch swing. I put the package of cigarettes in his hand and he grabbed my wrist to pull me in, and kissed me on the lips. He let go to let me stand upright again, and took me by the beltloops, and rested his cheek against my left hipbone. 

"Have a cigarette, love. You are looking very tired," I said. 

He was biting on my hip, which made me laugh again, and he grumbled, happy. "The sight of you makes me very glad," he said. "Oh I don't like to be around those others. I said, 'ca suffit', I want Darkling." 

I sat beside him, and he held out a cigarette for me to light, between his fingertips. When I didn't, he put it between his lips and cocked his eyebrow. 

"Is that what you said to them?" I asked, finished with teasing him. I lit his cigarette with the lighter tucked in my shirt, and put my hand on his while he sucked in his first drag and blew the smoke out of his nose. 

"Yes," he said, rocking the swing gently. "I said, 'Let me go home to my English rose, see his pointed face and touch his hair.' I said, I wanted to kiss your pretty lips, though they are somewhat pinched, and look into your eyes, though they are so ordinary, and put my face in your hair, though it is only brown and straight and not exciting." 

"Now in English."

"I missed you so much," he said. "My bed was so empty, and my heart so lonely, and now I am happy." 

I took him by the chin and looked into his eyes, and they were a little bloodshot, and he looked back sleepily. I kissed the bridge of his nose. He tried to kiss me again, catching my retreating lip with his tongue. "I don't want to kiss you while you're smoking, Leis." 

"Hold my hand," he said, smiling and slumping down a little for comfort.

I did, massaging his joints gently, which so often hurt him, though he wouldn't say why. 

"Tell me what you will do to me later," he said. 

"Later, I will kiss your neck," I whispered.

He chuckled in his low way, and wiggled his fingers under my touch. 

"I will unbutton your shirt at the collar and untuck it. You will struggle a little, because you always struggle. I don't know why you do that. You will say something like, 'I'm busy now,' or 'I'm sad now,' and struggle, and I will suck on your skin here," I said, touching him beneath his earlobe.