Canopy

Supernova

-Phil-

It's a strange thing to have your lover begging for something that you already want to give.

"Please," he whispers again, his fingers pressing hotly along my spine. He is nearly breathless. His body is practically hanging from mine as I push the patio door sideways along its metal track and lock it behind me.

I want to say the very same thing. I want to say "please." I want to beg him to let me love him and not hurt tomorrow when we have become even closer than we are now.

"Please what?" I say without removing my lips from the pretty curve of his face.

He makes a tiny, pitchy, whine and opens his palms against my back, pressing our bodies together. "Please don't stop."

I'm not going to stop. I assure him of this. I find his mouth and kiss him there, hungrily pushing my tongue between his lips. He pulls me inside, stilling his hands at my bare sides. We kiss for a long time, and I forget that we are still upright, pressed up against the glass of the patio door.

"Upstairs," I say.

Dan makes another affirmative sound with his throat before pulling out of the kiss. He looks at me with darkened eyes, darker than I have ever seen; they are nearly black. His lips are deeply pink and swollen, and his cheeks are flushed prettily. I have a feeling that he is at least a little scared. He may not admit it, not right now, but he will. He will say, "you were right. Closer does hurt." And I will say, "you were right, but it was worth it."

We certainly know our way around each other for two people who have never done this before. I know exactly what he wants; we've talked about it so many times. I take his hand and we make our way upstairs to my bed in the loft. My sheets lay open, like an envelope. I want to tuck him inside and keep him forever.

-Dan-

If I had known that it could feel like this, I would have told Ashlea sooner. I don't know how I ever denied it.

His mouth belongs over mine, and his hands feel right on my hips. Even if September comes, and I go, we will always have tonight. I hear the wind shift through the open windows. It carries with it a freshness that kind of smells of rain. I realize that I am kidding myself the moment that he slides his warm hands against my chest, under my t-shirt; tonight isn't enough. Having tonight will never be enough.

It occurs to me, as I purposely mark his back with my fingertips, that I could just refuse to go back.

"No," I would say, my feet firmly planted on the mossy bank. "Go ahead without me. I'm staying here, with Phil."

It can't happen that way, but the thought is enough to allow me to enjoy what Phil is currently doing to the shell of my ear. His teeth graze my ear lobe and then a warmth fills my body. He is pulling down, tugging at my flesh with his mouth, breathing his hot air on to my neck. Goosebumps rise all over my skin, and I make a sound from the depths of my chest that sounds a lot like a whimper. I want to say it again; I want to say "please, please don't ever stop."

Phil's fingers are needling into my waistband, gently pulling the denim away from my body. I feel cool air against my hot skin, and it feels so good, if only briefly. I imagine that he can feel my heat rising like when you open the oven door. He makes a satisfied sound when he does it, and I realize he can feel it.