display | more...

Tonight, I wanna give it all to you
In the darkness
there's so much I wanna do

She moves in time to the swelling bass, feeling the motoric rhythm vibrating though her body. Enjoying the lingering moment. He looks at her tentatively, wondering what thoughts she's hiding behind her striking eyes. Her soft face doesn't show any sign of the roils of discomfort living within her. She feels the tension of the lyrics, wondering if he intended to create such a strained atmosphere on the night that they were alone in the dark by playing this song. Alone for the first time in awhile.
His finger gently skims the creamy stretch of skin exposed between where her flimsy white tee-shirt ends and her skintight pants begin. She jerks away instinctively, remembering the last time he caressed her like that. He quickly withdraws his hand, wondering if that was a little suggestive, touching her private skin. He hasn't known the silkiness of her skin in quite awhile, and it had just occurred to him to remind himself of what it felt like.
The air between them isn't tense. It isn't awkward. It's not even tentative or guarded; they talk freely. It reminds her of how it was, too long ago to remember, before he had ever known the taste of her lips. They ignore the elephant in the room: the sexual tension that usually flattens them to the pavement with a vicious stampede. They're comfortable, uncomplicated, even touching on memories that reminiscing about normally rubs salt in her open wounds.

"Why are we acting so stupid around each other? Why can't it just be like this?" She sighs heavily and leans back onto the frigid metal bench behind her, staring up at the obscure winter sky. The sticky fog that usually hangs above the little town has receded tonight, allowing the stars to be visible. She wonders how many of them she has wished on, asking about the boy sitting to her left.
"I dunno. We shouldn't. I miss when we were friends." He muses, resisting the urge to add how it's more than her friendship he misses.

I was made for lovin' you baby
you were made for lovin' me
and I can't get enough of you baby
can you get enough of me?

Gene Simmons's rumbling voice is making her nervous. She suddenly springs up, pacing erratically across the pavement in front of him. She startles him, catching him off guard by parading her body close enough for him to touch. His eyes sweep over the messy, sexy waves that fall to her shoulders and the perfect proportions that his hands know so well. The moonlight casts a childish glint in her eye, one that slightly worries him. She smiles and picks up his empty Heineken bottle, chucking it as far as she can. Her eyes follow the bottle until it smashes to the cement, sending and explosion of green shards to scatter across the sidewalk. Then she moves towards him, bridging the gap that has formed between them the last few months. Her warm hands rest tentatively on his knees, and she looks curiously up into his eyes.

Down boy. He orders. He can't do this right now. He wants to though...he doesn't break her gaze. But she does within seconds. Apparently responding to the obvious attraction in the atmosphere is just a passing notion of hers.
"Let's walk." She murmurs. The vibrations of her voice are sultry and low, piercing his eardrum and making him shiver.
"Ok." They pack up the ipod, throw the remaining beer bottles at the forest behind their little spot and walk off into the thick night.

Tonight I wanna see it in your eyes
feel the magic
its something that drives me wild

"It's so damn cold. Feel." She grasps his large hand in her own.
"That's not too bad." She whispers. He lifts his palm to her velvet cheek. His hand is icy, but she keeps it there. It's nice. She stares up at him, into those brilliant eyes. He looks back in fascination. The desire to grab her is strong now. An emotion stirs and bubbles, preying to escape, and she is filled with the urge to give in. But she turns away instead. She can't. She really can't.
She can't, because she feels the heavy clunk of anagnorisis fall to the pit of her stomach like a dumbbell: She's still in love with him. And they've tried and tried, but nothing ever seems to be enough.

I was made for lovin' you baby
you were made for lovin' me
and I can't get enough of you baby
can you get enough of me?

Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.