8:20

8:20. The clock has stopped and you don’t notice. One last shift of the minute hand before it freezes, locked into the early morning hours. Ticking, ticking, ticking. The seconds struggle on. Unable to face the pace of time alone they begin to slow. No longer seconds but uneven beats. Uneven breaths. Time is stopping, slowing. A single clock freezing on this moment where you lie waking.

The heat within you grows. A warmth from your stomach, to your arms, to your limbs. Turn to your side. Shift beneath the covers. Knot the sheets between your toes. Back to front. But the space between is too much and even while he still sleeps he pulls you against him, holding you tight in his arms so that you’re not left wanting. He’s so warm. Heavy deep breaths. A slight snore. His breath flirting with your eyelashes as he rests his cheek upon your cheek. And he still sleeps. Pushes his nose into your neck. You smile. Turn to press deeper into his arms. Never before feeling so good. Comfortable. Safe. Press your lips into his neck, once and twice. Heart jumps as he moves, awake and buries his face into your chest. You laugh aloud, feeling his hands run up your side. He blinks awake, looks up at up you. Turns you onto your back. Grins. Touches his fingers to your face, stroking so that you close your eyes just to feel him a bit more and he brushes your hair back, lowers his face so that you feel him hover above you. Push up your chin, part your lips, raise your chest and his thumb brushes over your breath. A light touch, lips meeting, slow. Gentle. Slow and calm. He pulls back and you roll with him as you rest on his chest looking down as he smiles at you. Begging you to come to him. To show him that you care. His smile grows as you put your hands on either side of his head. Pull yourself above him. Feel him shift between your thighs. You lean down. Slow. He closes his eyes.

8:20. He leaves your bed in the mid-afternoon. The clock has already stopped when he leans to you in the doorframe and kisses you hard, hands race up his chest, around his neck and you press yourself into him begging for time to stop. Begging for this to last forever and nothing to change and you will be warm and safe as he holds you. And he smiles as you stroke his cheek and hold his hand. Keeps you tight, hands on your face, rough thumbs on your neck. He kisses you before leaving. The door clicks behind him. And you’re alone. Alone as the minute hand, the hour hand, has quit. Not even an echo of the ticking, ticking, ticking. You stand, lean against the wall. Shut your eyes. Still feel him there. Body rushes. Breath quickens. The second hand stops. 

#Neck #Thigh #lusting #ticking #pressyourlips #Clock #Door #romantic #bed #timestops #Felt #love #time #romance #Arts #shortfiction #lust

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