“Beautiful,” whispered the ginger, her eyes still watching her lover’s own. Scarlet spread from cheek to chin and down Faux’s pale throat in reply, her smile turned to a most embarrassed expression as she tried to turn her head away again and was stopped by another hand. Cracky cupped her bedmate’s face in her palms just as she had felt moments before and, wordlessly, she leaned down to kiss those soft, sweet lips again.
On Cracky’s terms, each kiss was slow and soft and lingering, still the same heartfelt warmth and tender passion that flowed between them for a brief second, but without the urgency of Faux’s earlier actions. Once she finally coaxed the blue-haired girl to wrap her arms about her neck and return the gesture herself, the result was sublime.
They kissed. Once, twice, or a million times, Cracky wasn’t keeping count. The sudden rush of blood to her brain made everything feel all light and tingly. The feeling in the pit of her stomach had become a gentle fluttering that slowly rose up through her chest, as if bursting to escape, her heart felt like a flock of butterflies behind her ribs.
Her hands slowly slipped down from Faux’s face, fingers tracing the perfect contours of her love’s jaw and neck down to her collar. She took the spent girl by her shoulders and lifted her up against her own chest, clutching Faux to her affectionately. In reply, arms around her neck tightened briefly before reaching around her awkwardly, one under one over her own, and Faux squeezed herself tight to the ginger’s front, clinging as if in desperation.
Again they kissed, this time Cracky couldn’t say who kissed who, but the tightness refused to lessen. Something rang out to her in that moment, a nameless something, she felt herself tightening her own hold on the naked, perfect body in her arms. She did so, and Faux made a soft sound, muffled into the kiss, but her grasp slackened marginally. When they finally broke apart for just a moment, Cracky saw that light, that hypnotic blue in blue of the American girl’s true eyes, and in it an endless warmth and hopeful acceptance where there had been before only passion, wild and urgent, and perhaps even fear.
“Beautiful…”
Now that flickering light shone back at her with a wonderful intensity, a shimmering cerulean fire set against the warm crimson of Faux’s pale cheeks. All the same, for a moment Cracky thought she might pull away from the sudden embrace. Almost subconsciously, she held that ivory figure even tighter against herself, as if willing her to remain.
“Don’t…” Cracky was surprised to hear her own voice break the silence. A tightness in her throat, the heat of moisture in her eyes seemed like nothing to the warm, contented feeling in her chest. “Don’t leave.”
The reaction surprised her all the more. Fingernails pressed at her bare shoulder blades, arms tight around her, Faux pressed herself against the ginger girl with desperate longing.
“I can’t,” she replied quietly, still panting. “I won’t. Not ever. I swear…”
Again their eyes found one another so easily. It felt like the most natural thing to just sit there on the ruined sheets and hold this perfect girl in her arms and just let herself stare into those deep blue eyes for as long as she could. Words may fail her now, but those eyes told her everything. Cracky only took one hand from her love’s body to brush her fingers against one perfect cheek, wishing for a second that she could say the same herself with such ease. Faux’s lip quivered slightly, as if trembling on the edge of a revelation.
“Lia,” whispered the English girl.
The fire broke. For an instant, Cracky was shocked by what she saw hidden behind it in those perfect crystal-blue eyes. Then the stalker girl was kissing her again, and again and again, and all she could think of was how good it felt.