Repose Memories (reposememories) wrote in repose, @ 2017-06-07 00:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | damian wainright, tristan sable, ~plot: memories |
[Memory]
What: Memory
Will characters be viewing the memory or experiencing it?: Experiencing it.
Warning, this memory contains: Butterflies and a bit of horny
You like the color red. That comes to you quick, like a heartpunch. It's a rusty red and mottled, and it's on the shoulders of a boy that's holding his cigarette out to you. You don't smoke, and you wonder that you reach out for the cigarette and take it without hesitation. You don't know what to do with it when your fingers fumble around the narrow stalk, which is dumb as dumb can be. It's a cigarette, and you're supposed to smoke it, but you've never done it before, and you don't want to look stupid. It's not something you worry over often, looking stupid. You know you're cute. You've been hearing it since you were young, and it doesn't really matter that you aren't conventional. You don't see handsome when you look in the mirror. You see narrow and waifish and lanky, but you know you're cute. But, the cigarette, that's what you're focusing on, and you put it between your lips and give a dainty little tug. You know you look good doing it; you always look good with something in your mouth, at least that seems to be the general consensus. You don't cough.
He has a deep voice, the boy in red. You can feel it in your toes, and those toes curl in your sneakers. You know you're smiling like an idiot, but you can pull that look off fine. It's charming, or so you've been told, and you're going for charming. It isn't a seduction, because you're just sitting with him now, and no one's touching anything that belongs to anyone else. Until, that is, you hand the cigarette back. Your fingers touch his, and wings slam against your belly. You think your cheeks might be flushed, but you play it cool. You got this, and you know you got this, because he forgets to inhale on the cigarette you returned to him.
You end up in his room a few minutes later, and you're fearless. You wink at him, and he nearly smiles at you, and you feel like you're floating. You're in control, and it's like you can see the winning move at the end of a chess game. But he turns that around on you when he pulls off that red hoodie. His shirt, the one he's wearing beneath, lifts, and you see a sliver of dark skin. You want to touch it. You want to touch it like you never wanted to touch anything before, and you're going to embarrass yourself by getting hard around someone you just met. You try to think of something really ugly, but your mind is stuck on that sliver of skin.
You're still thinking about it when he asks about your name, and he's sitting close to you on the bed now. Like a child, you write your name on jeans, over his kneecap, with your fingers. He mirrors the gesture, and your knee is on fire, or maybe it's about to explode, or maybe you're going to explode. You think every single option is possible, and you're the experienced one here. But he tells you he just kissed a man, and he's asking you to sleep over, and you know you just fell right off some cliff that you aren't going to be able to scramble up again. He stands, and he strips his clothing off like it's nothing. You're still staring when he climbs beneath the comforters. You're staring where he'd been a few seconds earlier, and your mind hasn't caught up with what just happened. You watch, and there's drool pooling at the corners of your mouth by the time you move.
You pull off everything you're wearing, and you climb beneath the blankets too. You shift around, and you tell him to sleep well, but you're not thinking about sleeping. Beneath the blankets, on your side of the bed, you're willing your boner away, and you're thinking about that red hoodie, that sliver of dark skin, the dark hair between his thighs. Mostly, you're thinking about that almost smile he gave you, and you feel like your heart might burst from where it lives beneath the bones of your chest.
Deliberately, you tangle your bare feet with his, and you listen to him breathe as he falls asleep. You smile giddily, and you sniff the pillow under your cheek, and you barely sleep at all.