fic: Learn From Your Mistakes or Make Them Over Again
Learn From Your Mistakes or Make Them Over Again
Original fiction; m/f/f (and all permutations thereof); 281 words
Two's company, and three's a crowd.
~*~
red syrup sweet on my tongue
and the blue glow from the tv screen
cph is becoming my home away from home
away from home.
lulled into safety, we pile three high in a chair that should collapse under our combined weight.
schnapps off-limit, there's a drink run (drunken stumble)
confession time!
will you remember everything in the morning?
it's actual fireworks, kissing done right.
staying in on a friday night just got more fun.
one plus one plus one is three and
i've always been terrible at math and
i like the addition (right now) but not the subtraction
trading tastes in mouths
and there's nothing else besides clumsy fingers on my skin
heat working its way down from my lips.
then we're trying to make it back upstairs,
only to continue what we were doing when we get there.
the night's still young.
it's time for games
of all kinds
(with the lights off
with her shorts falling off my hips).
adult swim cartoons masking the noises we're already trying to stifle
i can still hear you breathing in my ear
the quiet squeak of the bed and
not my own thoughts, for once.
it's over fast, but the night drags on
kisses and your hands over my ears to block out the noise
(fuck, i always fall hard for your type).
in the morning i have:
a bump on my head from when it hit the floor too hard
earlobes sore from her teeth
red marks on my neck that makeup won't cover
the start of a bruise on my ass-elevators are tricky when you're trashed
rugburn, inexplicably
and
the sinking feeling i fucked everything up.
Original fiction; m/f/f (and all permutations thereof); 281 words
Two's company, and three's a crowd.
~*~
red syrup sweet on my tongue
and the blue glow from the tv screen
cph is becoming my home away from home
away from home.
lulled into safety, we pile three high in a chair that should collapse under our combined weight.
schnapps off-limit, there's a drink run (drunken stumble)
confession time!
will you remember everything in the morning?
it's actual fireworks, kissing done right.
staying in on a friday night just got more fun.
one plus one plus one is three and
i've always been terrible at math and
i like the addition (right now) but not the subtraction
trading tastes in mouths
and there's nothing else besides clumsy fingers on my skin
heat working its way down from my lips.
then we're trying to make it back upstairs,
only to continue what we were doing when we get there.
the night's still young.
it's time for games
of all kinds
(with the lights off
with her shorts falling off my hips).
adult swim cartoons masking the noises we're already trying to stifle
i can still hear you breathing in my ear
the quiet squeak of the bed and
not my own thoughts, for once.
it's over fast, but the night drags on
kisses and your hands over my ears to block out the noise
(fuck, i always fall hard for your type).
in the morning i have:
a bump on my head from when it hit the floor too hard
earlobes sore from her teeth
red marks on my neck that makeup won't cover
the start of a bruise on my ass-elevators are tricky when you're trashed
rugburn, inexplicably
and
the sinking feeling i fucked everything up.