407. - Lucien
My thoughts have stopped coming in comprehensive sentences and my heart has stopped beating at least seven times in the time between now and the carousel. I don't care what this means, how long it lasts or if we're being stupid or not; all I care about is Emma, about how she tastes of pineapple and buttered popcorn. Her perfume makes me dizzy, but she holds me steady by simply being there.
The last embers of self control are burning away with every kiss we share and I want nothing more than to take her in my arms and pull her upstairs, interrupting the way up every three steps to steal another kiss. My body is ablaze and I'm willing to let it burn down entirely if it means I can be with Emma.
Emma seems to have the same idea, because in the time she has ingeniously moved us towards the door that hides the hallway and the stairs. I laugh, pulling her close to me and kissing below her ear. "I can't, Em."
"There's so many people. They won't miss us." I feel her nails clawing at my chest through my shirt, nearly causing me to moan.
"I'm the host. Of all people, I will be missed. Besides..." I glance sideways to where Gabriel is now dancing with my sister. "I don't trust them to not broadcast it around when we do disappear."
Her laugh is like oxygen for the flames and I can't believe I get to not only hear it again, but also feel it; so close against me I feel it rumble in her chest and I feel her breath against my skin. "I suppose that's a fair concern."
So we wait it out. Never straying from each other's side we make it through the night somehow, but not without stealing kisses or slipping a touch now and then. I feel Emma shiver when I run a hand up her thigh; in return she makes my knees buckle by twirling her fingers around loose curls in the nape of my neck. I'm almost glad that my hair is full of gel and hairspray, because I'm pretty sure that her fingers through my curls would have caused me to come undone right here on the dance floor.
The entire time we get sly grins from our friends and at some point, when Emma has her head against my chest during a particularly slow number, Eschieve exclaims that she might be happier than we are.
I highly doubt that.
There are so many things I want to say to the girl in arms. That I love her, that I never stopped loving her, that she is the one who pulled me through that time in the South-African retreat. That she's never left my mind for more than maybe an hour at a time, and that she's been plaguing my dreams ever since that faithful day at the end of August. But I say none of them, because words aren't enough to come even close to describing what I'm feeling right now. I settle for another kiss; first one on her forehead, and then her lips again, and it feels like home.
We keep it together until the door clicks closed behind us. Apparently Beth and Eschieve had already arranged to sleep together, because I realise my sister's stuff is gone and have made place for Emma's. But that is the only thing I notice, because the next moment Emma's arms are around my neck and her lips are on mine again. I moan, arms wrapping tightly around her waist to hoist her upwards; her legs latch around my hips and we fall against the wall together. Any sliver of composure has fallen away, there's no more pretending. The only thing that matters is us two and the distance created between us by our clothes.
"Next time," I breathe against her neck. "You better wear this outfit when I can enjoy it from second one."
She laughs, her head falling back and exposing her chest. "You're one to talk." Another kiss, and then a grunt of pain from me when she tries pushing her hands through my hair. The hairspray makes it impossible, and I can't help but laugh at her obvious disappointment.
We find our way to the bed, articles of clothing being shed left and right. She pushes me down on the mattress and crawls over me, eyes bright even in the mostly dark room. I'm pinned down, but I'm not complaining; she starts pulling pins out of her hair, tossing them wherever, and I watch as her dark locks cascade over her bare shoulders. With a hand flat against the space between her shoulders I pull her back to me, kissing her like my life depends on it - I fear it might, because without her I certainly will crumble.
Hands wander, lips travel; wherever her skin touches mine I feel sparks of electricity and I can't get enough. We're tangled together, rolling over and back again, barely able to break apart long enough to get to where we want to be.
"Wait." I pant when she's about to pull down my boxers. She looks up with wide, expextant eyes and - do I see some slight annoyance that I stopped her? "I... haven't been tested in a while."
She blinks once, then twice, and then lets go of the waistband. "Shit." She breathes. "I'm not on the pill either."
"Definitely protection then. But once we find it, I beg of you to continue what you were doing."
She grins and presses another kiss to my mouth. In a hurry I go to find my wallet, but it comes up empty. Emma, also rummaging through her stuff, doesn't seem to have more luck.
"Oh no no no, this can't be happening." I moan miserably, upturning my toiletry bag and checking every possible pocket. Nothing. I look at Emma, who has already given up; she's on her knees at the edge of her bed, but her knees are spread apart and her body is slumped in defeat. The fact that she is in just her panties makes for an amazing sight and I can't do anything with it. She looks around, pushing her hair away from her face and keeping her hands there as her eyes find mine.
"This isn't real." She whispers. "Nothing."
Of all the things that our little group of friends thought about, they really forgot the most important detail. We just stare at each other for a few seconds, and then both break out in laughter over the absurdity of it all. I walk over, taking her face in my hands and tipping it upwards so I can kiss her. We both know we can't, there's no argument there.
"In that case," I say, unable to hide my disappointment. "I'm going to take a nice, cold shower and wash this mess out of my hair."
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