Respite

A languid mornings’ start, we can finally screw our eyes shut against the mornings’ rays no longer. The caress of the plush pillow-top is rivaled only by our own embrace. Still worn from the nights’ activities, we revel in the knowledge that hours yet remain before we must check out and we sink deeper into both the white down comforter and each other’s arms. We chuckle as we recount our perspective ridiculous antics from the evening and congratulate ourselves again on making it back to the room.

During the lax moments we admire the view streaming in on the stray sunrays that managed to dart past the halfheartedly drawn curtains of the windows set in the breakfast nook beside the bed. The ocean appears a sun flared marbled floor leading to the feet of the snowcapped mountains that form a ring around the spit of land that the hotel resides on. The sight draws you from the bed for a closer look and I find myself torn between reluctance at relinquishing your touch and my desire to drink in your bare form.

I watch you pick your way around the bed and cannot help but stir at seeing you perk up as goose bumps change the topography of your skin in rebuke to the change in temperature

You toss your hair and grin at my arched eyebrow as the wave of pinpricks crawls its way across the faint lines of your abdomen and crashes into the medley of colors that make up the lily tattoo sprawling down your side. My appreciation for the late check out is renewed.

You choose a spot at the main window of the nook and settle on the cushion, turning half way to the window and gracing me with a side profile of your form. You glance back toward me, smiling at my obvious appreciation as a wayward ray of light collides with one of your hazel eyes, turning it into a molten pool of amber honey on impact.

Your smile gleams as brightly as the ring glinting in your lip and the brown and gold of your hair is set ablaze while you turn again to regard the splendor of the view beyond the walls of our temporary haven; I feel bad for you, as it turns out your view is only half as fine as my own. But I Keep it to myself out of greed and continue to watch you, casting my mind forward in anticipation of future escapes from the real world.

My heart crumbles as I remember the illusion is not to last. We’ve been playing at this game for a few weeks now, moonlighting together here, escaping for a weekend there, and scarcely speaking in between. The absence and time apart makes for more fervent nights together and in turn making each parting all the more painful. We both know we cannot carry on like this much longer, why do this to ourselves? But we’ve both unspokenly agreed to be sick and deluded a little longer yet.

You edge yourself from the seat at the window and devastate the value of the view and begin to make your way back across the room, perhaps towards the bathroom, I’m not certain and I don’t intend to find out as I’ve again buried my remorse and your path brings you into my orbit close enough to reach out and tug you back down to the bed beside me.

I assail your neck with a flurry of kisses as your lilting laugh rings out and I feel obligated to share my affections with your shoulders and chest; I notice your laughter has given way to subtle gasping breaths as I forgo my kisses in favor of teasing bites when I come to the swell of your breasts.

What tastes I’ve taken have only served to make me more ravenous and I continue to sample as I make my way down your abdomen. The goose bumps have returned and I find myself very appreciative of the diversity in texture due to my complex palette.

My gluttony has carried me to the mid of your thighs and I discover I’m no less hungry now then when I began and continue greedily taking soft bites, this time traversing upwards, reveling in your hushed gasps and breathless exhales. Soon I’ve reached the apex between your thighs and after a mischievous pause my consumptions resumes while you knot your fingers in my hair.

You taste of our laughter and our tears, our late nights and our early mornings. Hints of our adventure complimented by lethargy, I can taste our perspective annoyances peppered by our endearments; the sweet snap of our love and the bitter citrus of our resentments pair exquisitely with the creamy texture of our trust but is detracted by the greasy distraction of betrayal.

Finally I pull away, rising to hands and knees to post myself above you and I devour you as thoroughly with my eyes as I have with teeth and tongue. You’ve clenched your pierced lip between your teeth and my fractured heart throbs in rebellion even as I plunge into you with reckless abandon and despise myself for loving it so much. I loathe our kisses, the quick, coy pecks as well as the long fevered drinks. My Bites on your neck and shoulders, your nails, raking lines in my back readable even to the blind; all little lies we tell ourselves during our clandestine time together. Falsehoods we clutch to when no one is else is looking, self-medicating deceptions that we think will make the transition easier to handle like deluded trauma victims being handed a newly refilled prescription. Well, plenty of time to get healthy later. For now? I’ve got a late check out.