Inspired by this Atlanta rain.
Waking up, his headache had subsided. The rain still rapped violently against his bedroom windows, as he awoke in the dimly lit apartment bedroom. He briefly glanced at the glowing clock that read 6:45pm, and wondered where the time had gone. He glanced at her, sleeping, through cloudy contacts lenses. She, in sleep had moved to the other pillow, eyes shut, head nestled with her arms folded under. He stared at her bare shoulders, and with his one unobstructed eye, watched her breathe, with thoughts of how buttercream soft, her supple flesh was in his grasp. He smiled as he wanted to touch her again.
He could hear the music still playing outside in the den, unsure of the song, but lay prone, not fully awake to go tend to it. Lifting his head, he noticed their still unfinished bottle of Starbucks Frappuccino, thinking they were drinking, earlier they had poured some of his father’s Kahlua into the bottle.
She stirred briefly, and turned to face him in her sleep. Her bright round face, framed by her dark hair, falling over her cheek, shined in the dim evening. He smiled at the sight of her furrowed nose, the structure of her angelic face, her full lips, he still tasted, and the thoughts of her sounds, her kiss, her moans. Satisfied, at least for now, he thought. But, looking at her sleep, he wanted more. He had tasted her, they released their angst together, and found something they had been looking for, if just for this moment.
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