Breathe Me || Completed

6.1

6.1 - Ryann's Mouth

Ryann's mouth is like a warm blanket in a winter storm, soft and warm and soothing. Every stitch in the fabric of her tongue is extraordinary, is special, is beautiful, is unforgettably textured and gentle. Her lips are satin pillows, tender and silky, soft, sweet, cool, dry. I sink into her like a warm bath and sink and sink and sink until my fingers start to prune up.

She is like biting into a ripe plum, sweeter, fuller with every bite. She is so shiveringly delicious that I can't help gorging on her, juice running down my chin, supple skin under my fingernails. My tongue rejoices in the sweet redness of her insides, savoring every morsel.

Before I realize what I am doing, I have her pinned underneath me on the bed, straddling her torso. I hold her by her neck and take another deep draught of the life-giving elixir that bubbles up from the spring inside her mouth. Her hands are on my waist, the cells of our skin making love to each other through our friction.

"Hey," she whispers, her voice a quiet moan that rumbles through my body with the force of an earthquake. "Sally . . ."

"Shh."

My hands move of their own accord, grappling for her like she is the last life preserver cast over the side of a sinking ship. Her shoulders are round and smooth as perfect, tumbled sea stones, her stomach soft and pliant as dewy grass under bare feet. I taste her jaw and the side of her neck. Her skin is the taste of warm, flaky pastry between my teeth.

"Hey," she says. She struggles to sit up, fighting against my kisses. She weaves her fingers into my hair and kisses me one more time on my lips.

"Ryann," I moan into her, stomach exploding with whistling fireworks and head foggy with the thick, sultry smoke of arousal. "Oh, Ryann."

"Hey," she repeats. She won't let me go back for more. She holds my face away from hers, looking at me. "Hey. What the fuck was that?"

All of a sudden, the blood rushes back to my head. I feel my face go red and stiff with shock. Ryann clears her throat, fingers to her swollen lips as I climb off of her, backing away from the bed on legs of jelly. I feel a numb tingling in between my legs, something distended and pleasurable, fattening inside of me.

I can tell she feels it too from the way she crosses her legs and pulls them to her chest, wriggling in her bed with her chest rising and falling rapidly. My mind is torn: I want to run but I want more, more, more. I inch my way toward the door.

"Don't go, Sally," Ryann groans. She has her hands covering her face like shutters over a window. "God, I knew I would fuck this up. I always fuck everything up."

But I love you. "You didn't fuck up," I say. It's almost a whisper.

"But you're leaving," she says. "I . . . I saw you outside and, I just didn't want to be alone with myself anymore . . . and I scared you, and now you're gonna leave me alone again." She's crying again, rubbing vigorously at her brimming eyes. She cries so quietly, like a weak-lunged kitten. "I'm sorry. Just don't go, Sally."

I walk to the window, my entire body a tremor. Under us, Samantha is still sitting on the front step. I can see her there with Ryann's dog at her feet, the empty cereal box tossed into the yard in front of her. She's not smoking anymore. My stomach twists to look at her, a heavy, sinking feeling spreading through my gut. But why? I haven't done anything wrong. She's just sitting there, igniting and extinguishing the flame in her lighter. How much longer before she starts burning things?

Ryann watches me with red eyes. I feel sick to my stomach looking at her, looking at her needs, her desires, her brokenness all spread out inside of her like that. "I-I actually have to get h-home," I mutter.

She sits up in bed, releasing a heavy sob. "Take me with you," she says. "Please. Don't leave me alone here. Don't leave me."

Ryann is so fragile there on the bed with her head in her arms. I could break her, if I wanted to. "Alright," I say. My stomach lurches and my skin prickles. Everything feels wrong.

She stands up off the bed and wipes her eyes. "Thank you," she says.

She leads me out of the room. We don't touch each other, but the space between us is electric with the unknown. We leave the room and start to descend the stairs when an unfamiliar voice, soft and feeble, calls out, "Ma? You there?"

It's coming from Matty's room. Ryann glances back behind her. "No," she yells back. "It's just me."

"Ryann?"

"Yep."

"Where are you going?"

Ryann taps the railing. "To a friend's house," she tells him.

He's quiet for a second. I realize he's coughing, only so raspily that he hardly makes a sound. "When'll you be back?" he asks.

"I don't know."

"Come here, Ry."

She sighs and looks up at me. "Do you want to come see my big brother?" she asks.

I don't, actually, as I am generally opposed to meeting people, but I nod my head. She looks so sad.