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Everywhere But Your Lips free porn video
Everywhere But Your Lips
She's kissed you everywhere. Everywhere but your lips.
The first kiss was on your cheek, a little over two years ago. Her lips were soft, wet with strawberry lip gloss, and you'd grimaced and swiped your hand over the mark she left, fingertips sticky. You'd made a noise of disgust, nose wrinkling, but she'd just smiled and leaned back, like she knew a little secret you didn't. And she must've, because the next time she kissed your cheek you didn't say a word, hands folded in your lap.
You were already with Beck by then, but Cat managed to kiss your cheek before Beck ever did. She beat him everywhere.
Everywhere but your lips.
She kissed your hand next. Cat has a habit of toying with your hand, wriggling her fingers through the gaps in yours, tracing the lines of your palm. You let her do it because it keeps her quiet, and if no one sees you when Cat is touching you, you don't mind it nearly so much. If they were to see you, they might think you like it, and that's not the kind of person you are.
You were watching a movie with her, screen flickering as you both sat in the dark, a few couples munching on popcorn, s**ttered throughout the theatre. It'd been some coming-of-age story about fumbling teenagers and life lessons and love, and if it hadn't been based around a murder, you wouldn't have seen it at all. You'd been focused on the screen when the tickling touch of Cat's fingers on your palm was replaced by something much softer. Your fingers had flexed automatically, but you'd kept your eyes on the screen and your breath held in your throat. Like you'd never even noticed. But Cat had, and her eyes burned over you as you felt her lips touch your hand again, soft as flower petals.
You wanted to say something then, to pull your hand away from where it rested in her lap afterwards, to tell her that people didn't do this, that it wasn't normal, but since when have you ever wanted something normal? The reasons to keep quiet screamed so much louder than the ones that said you should stop it now. To talk about it would make it mean something, and there are some subjects you just avoid. Particularly matters of the heart.
The next kiss came nearly a month later. At a sleeepover. You were painting your nails black, all the colours Cat had tried to persuade you into discarded by the bed. Cat's nails were a minty green, still sticky. She braided your hair, weaving a thick rope down your back, fingers deft in their movements. A few strands had stuck to her nails, getting torn out when she moved her hand away, and you'd made a soft, sharp sound without meaning to, a twinge of pain in your scalp. She'd shushed you, stroking the braid more cautiously, and the scowl on your face had frozen as her lips brushed your neck, right where the gentle slope of your shoulder began.
“I'm sorry.”
She'd whispered the words into your skin, into your pulse, while you fought the urge to shiver, shoulders stiff under her hands. You could feel the smile in her lips as she moved away. She never mentioned the kisses, never talked about them. She didn't have to. She knew you'd never say a word about them. Your body told her all she needed to know. Her kisses were secrets she left on your skin, inscribed in invisible ink, your fingers the only thing that could reveal them. They left a scar underneath the skin, a mark that twinged when you pressed over the places she'd brushed.
Your cheek.
Your hand.
Your neck.
A leopard can't change its spots, and Cat was turning you into one, painting every immovable rosette with her lips, one at a time.
It was only a week later that Beck kissed you in the same spot, arms wrapped around you, chest hard against your back. You barely felt it, like Cat had burned that spot numb, in the shape of her lips. It'd still sent your heart racing, but instead of thoughts of Beck, it was Cat's fluttering touch that clouded your mind. You told Beck you didn't like having your neck kissed then. You lied. You'd twisted in his arms, turned and kissed him, his lips broad and cold, and your lips at least were one thing Cat hadn't marked. One thing you could still give to Beck.
Cat's lips found your heart next.
You were all at the beach. Beck, Andre, Robbie... Cat. Rex was even there, although it could've just been a bit of beach driftwood with a wig on.
It was the first day of summer, and it was awful. Instead of warm sunshine, there'd been a chill in the air, one that plucked goose bumps on your skin. The water was icy, every wave made of serrated shark's teeth that stung your skin red. The only amusing thing about it was how hard everyone tried to pretend they were having fun. Robbie built a sandcastle, knocking it down when his hands shivered too much. Beck and Andre had splashed each other in the water, eventually giving up and tossing a Frisbee back and forth. The only one who actually looked like she was having fun was Cat.
She skipped through the sand, played games with the freezing tide, squealing as the icy water nipped her toes whenever she wasn't fast enough. You sat on a beach-chair, sunglasses on despite the lack of sun, and spent the time trying not to shiver your black bikini off. Eventually they'd given it up, Beck, Robbie, and Andre trudging back to the car, towels wrapped around their shoulders in defeat.
Cat had trailed behind you on the way to the girl's restroom, sweat actually slick on her skin from all her bouncing around. You could feel the heat bleed off her as she stood next to you, bending to rifle through her pink backpack, material emblazoned with cartoons. You'd turned away to dig your own top out of your bag, relishing the thought of long sleeves. The restroom was even colder than outside, the smell of salt and cleaning products stinging the air. Cat's hand was like a ray of sunshine on your lower back, scorching the skin as you twisted to face her.
You'd flinched as her other hand burned your shoulder, heat spreading through you. She'd shuffled closer to you, torso almost touching yours, so close you could feel every breath she took, heat radiating from her. She'd looked up at you for a moment, like she was playing a game of join the dots and wanted to see what kind of picture she'd made so far. By now, it was one of anticipation. Cat had leant forward, and you'd tried to keep still as her lips planted themselves over your heart, cold, pale skin sizzling under her hot mouth, and somehow moving would've made it worse.
Maybe you were scared of what moves you would've made.
She'd pulled back, tongue running out over her lips, a smile perched on them, and even you'd glimpsed the red mark she'd left behind on your chest.
"You taste like salt." She'd said it in a tone half-laughing, half-teasing, and whatever sarcastic remark you would've made died as soon as it reached your throat, killed as Cat's kiss spread roots to your heart. Another spot on your coat.
Cat had turned away with a grin, and you'd turned away with a face more frozen than before, this time intentionally so, as a hole burned its way through your chest, singed in the shape of a cupids bow. You'd pulled your top on as quickly as you could, hurrying out of the restroom towards the car. You weren't cold anymore.
You taste like salt…
Everyone was already in the car, crammed into the tiny white hatchback Beck had borrowed from his uncle. You'd slid into the back, next to Andre, Robbie chatting animatedly with Beck in the front, Rex interjecting occasionally with a snide remark. Cat had emerged a moment later, clambering in beside you, bare thigh pressed against yours, tan contrasting your pale skin. She was fire, and you were ice, and she was slowly but surely melting you. You'd extinguish her if only everyone wouldn't see the steam.
You stayed silent while everyone chattered, offering non-committal sounds whenever you were dragged into the conversation. You stayed silent as the sun sunk, and everyone started yawning and stretching inside the cramped car, laughter louder than the mellow stereo. You stayed silent as Cat's hand crept onto your leg, fingers tickling your inner thigh.
You always say you don't remember that trip to the beach.
You kept waiting for the next kiss, every moment with Cat a held breath. Every day it didn't come was a day you could breathe again, and eventually you relaxed, fingers tracing the spots in the shower like they were old wounds, healed to nothing. Snapshots you could set down when you were done with them. Cat never was predictable though. Her next kiss came months later, and it was one that couldn't heal.
It was at another sleeepover. You'd avoided having Cat over for a while after the beach incident, making up flimsy excuses or just taking her out for ice-cream, anywhere that was public, really. You didn't see her claws for so long you assumed they were gone, despite the scars littering your body. You conveniently forgot that cats keep their claws sheathed. Until they need them.
Cat had been pawing through your movies, huddled on the carpet at the end of your bed, while you lay back on the mattress and counted spider webs, waiting for her to pick something.
"What about this one?"
You'd sat up, scooting to the end of the bed without thinking, squinting to see the movie Cat was waving at you.
"Hold it still!" You'd snapped, Cat shuffling up to you on her knees, hand snatching the DVD out of Cat's grasp. "Oh, this one." You'd flipped it over, scanning the blurb on the back. "It's- it's-"
You never got to finish your sentence, cut off by Cat's hands on your thighs. It was only then you realised how perfectly positioned she was, knelt right between your legs. You wouldn't have even realised if Cat hadn't, and you'd wondered then if she'd somehow planned it, or if it was an opportunity she'd snatched.
Your tongue had stuttered on the next word, a tiny smile spreading across Cat's face. The only thing she'd been waiting for was you. It was almost too easy for her to push your legs apart further, to lower her lips to just below where your pyjama shorts rode up on your inner thigh. You'd felt her breath tremble against your skin before her lips touched the sensitive skin, the soft caress of her lips hot and wet, so close. So close to you. You'd tried to keep still, to remain immobile like you had all the other times, to ignore that quivering string she strummed inside of you. But the quiet sound of Cat's lips on your skin snapped it. You'd let out a breath like a sob, and just for a moment, Cat had frozen. Until one word broke free of your mouth, in a voice you'd never heard before.
"Please."
Cat had looked up at you, smile gone, and her eyes inscrutable. And maybe if you'd said nothing, maybe if you'd just played dead like all the times before, that kiss would've been Cat's only one. Maybe that dread you'd felt for so long had been anticipation, a hope you couldn't acknowledge.
Her hand had moved to your stomach, the smallest amount of pressure pushing against you. A test, and one you passed with flying colours, lying back on the bed obediently. Cat's fingers had hooked in the waistband of your shorts, loose material sliding down easily, and part of you wondered what if you had said something in that movie theatre. What if you'd said stop?
But if you couldn't say stop to a simple kiss on the hand, what hope did you have now? Cat's kisses were insidious. They'd found their way to your bloodstream, infected you, pushed out with every heartbeat. Her spots were a disease, and they'd spread all over your insides, speckling every organ and muscle and bone, a leopard of lips, of touch. Every part of you was hers, she just hadn't claimed it yet.
Her lips only brought that poison to the surface, a patina of a pucker, rosy red. And with one soft kiss that made your hips jerk and your hands clench, she brought you completely undone. Her hands had pinned your hips in place, that small kiss a precursor to her tongue. Your fingers had twisted into claws in the bed sheets, teeth sinking into your lower lip, and she'd turned you into something with claws and fangs. A cat, just like her.
You weren't a still snapshot anymore, you were a full colour feature film, and Cat was jamming her finger on the play button over and over, sending you stuttering and shuddering. Every film has a climax, and it didn't take you long to reach yours, every spot Cat had spread throbbing, a constellation of sensation across your body.
She'd finished with one small, soft kiss on your hip. An artist's signature on her canvas.
After that, you were an ellipse, waiting for her to continue you, waiting for the next word to leave her mouth and tattoo your skin. You were a pause, and a heavily pregnant one at that, far overdue. You were waiting for her to take the one place Beck still had dominion over; your lips. To drip her poison over your tongue, down your throat, and into the pit of your stomach.
There were times, in the middle of the night, where you'd be overcome, and you'd kiss Beck as hard as you could, in some vain attempt to meld his lips into the shape of hers, to fool yourself into getting that kiss that'd never happened, notable only by its omission.
It was the one place she should've kissed.
She's kissed you everywhere. But not there.
Everywhere but your lips.
Now you're here with her, in your room, in a situation you've set up a dozen times, hoping that she'll take the hint and do what you can't. But Cat's swinging her feet, perched on the edge of your bed, and the only thing she's doing with her cupid's bow of a mouth is humming. You can't help but shiver at the thought of her buzzing mouth on your skin, stinging you yet again.
"Do you wanna watch a movie or something?" You say the words nonchalantly, but your mind is already picturing the DVD you never ended up watching. Maybe you'll have a chance to not watch it again.
"'Kay 'kay." Cat says happily, bouncing to her feet. "I'll pick one!"
You watch her as she rifles through your DVD collection, still humming. You feel all arms and legs, a loose mess of joints and arteries and bones and muscle. The only thing that holds you together are where Cat's sown her kisses, and you're more aware of her stitches than ever. Every movement of her mouth is one you can match to your body.
Everywhere but your lips.
You sit stiffly on the end of your bed, Cat throwing herself beside you as the movie starts, her shoulder jostling yours warmly. Your hand rests on your knee, and Cat's lips rest just inside your palm. You clench your fingers, trying to get rid of the memory, but it's never worked before, and this this time is no exception.
"Cat-" You can't stop your palm from itching, other hand moving to scratch it, your nails short and sharp.
"Mm?"
Your heart starts to pound, and it's like a lighter is pressed over it, skin hot and crawling. "Cat, I-"
Your cheeks are burning, a blush spreading across your face, a crawling sensation on your neck. You try to still your hands, shoving them into your lap. "Cat, I don't... I..."
You press your thighs together, trying to ease the throbbing that's started there.
"What is it?" Cat tilts her head at you, eyebrows furrowed, and every word she speaks is matched by a strong pulse between your legs. Every word she shapes with her sweet, pink lips.
"Why... why haven't-" The words stumble out of your mouth, hesitant and stilted. You've spent so much time trying not to talk about this, about what she does, that even when you want, even when you need to, you can't. You take a deep breath, linking your fingers together and keeping them locked between your legs. It makes you feel a little more together.
"You've kissed me everywhere." You say it quietly, eyes fixed on the ground, and it feels like you're telling her a secret somehow. That you noticed every time her lips touched your skin, even if you never said a word. She already knows that though. Your body's told her everything. The one word that bled from your lips last time was just the cherry on your sundae, and Cat had popped that into her mouth with a grin.
Cat's silent for a moment, before nodding. "Everywhere but your lips."
"Why? Why everywhere but there?" You try to keep your voice soft, to keep the crawling need out of it. You're genuinely curious. She's come so close, lips soft on your cheeks, but she's never even accidentally grazed there.
She's never even tried to.
Cat's mouth twists, sending a twinge through you. She glances up at you, chocolate eyes inscrutable. The same look she gave you when you'd let that one word slip.
“Please.”
"It's the one place that can kiss me back." Her fingers curl on her lap, tongue running out over her lower lip, and you start to realise why she's kept her lips to your skin.
She's stamped your whole body with her kisses, felt it freeze and twitch and shiver underneath her. Your skin could never reject her, your body could never shove her away. But your lips? They would've frozen just as your body did, Cat's burning mouth unable to melt them. Cat could never have kissed you there, she never would have. The choice is yours, and its own indecision that's brought you here. If you'd told her to stop, she would have. But you were too busy trying not to say yes to even think of saying no.
You take Cat's hand.
Her fingers are shaking as you bring them to your lips, pressing them over her knuckles. You can feel her pulse pounding as you touch over her neck, the skin warm and fragrant, a perfume that tickles your nose.
Your lips find her cheek next, a little gasp creeping into your ears, Cat's breath feathering your neck. You're painting your spots on her, making her a mirror image of you. There's only one spot left clean on both of you, and, after a short pause, you dirty it.
Cat's lips are soft and warm, the same shape you've felt impressed into your skin so many times. You trace them with your own, eyes shut tight, every contour and curve already stamped in your brain. They taste sweet, like strawberries or coconut or whatever lip gloss she used this morning, and you're glad it's faded, because her own taste is so much better.
She tastes like coffee in the morning, she tastes like blood from a nicked finger, she tastes like a cold lungful of icy air, sucked down in the middle of the night. She tastes like things that send your heart racing. She's bleeding into your brain, and as your tongue runs out over her bottom lip, you realise it's just what you wanted. You're a leopard now, and you can't change your spots.
But neither can she.
She's kissed you everywhere.
Even on your lips.
She's kissed you everywhere. Everywhere but your lips.
The first kiss was on your cheek, a little over two years ago. Her lips were soft, wet with strawberry lip gloss, and you'd grimaced and swiped your hand over the mark she left, fingertips sticky. You'd made a noise of disgust, nose wrinkling, but she'd just smiled and leaned back, like she knew a little secret you didn't. And she must've, because the next time she kissed your cheek you didn't say a word, hands folded in your lap.
You were already with Beck by then, but Cat managed to kiss your cheek before Beck ever did. She beat him everywhere.
Everywhere but your lips.
She kissed your hand next. Cat has a habit of toying with your hand, wriggling her fingers through the gaps in yours, tracing the lines of your palm. You let her do it because it keeps her quiet, and if no one sees you when Cat is touching you, you don't mind it nearly so much. If they were to see you, they might think you like it, and that's not the kind of person you are.
You were watching a movie with her, screen flickering as you both sat in the dark, a few couples munching on popcorn, s**ttered throughout the theatre. It'd been some coming-of-age story about fumbling teenagers and life lessons and love, and if it hadn't been based around a murder, you wouldn't have seen it at all. You'd been focused on the screen when the tickling touch of Cat's fingers on your palm was replaced by something much softer. Your fingers had flexed automatically, but you'd kept your eyes on the screen and your breath held in your throat. Like you'd never even noticed. But Cat had, and her eyes burned over you as you felt her lips touch your hand again, soft as flower petals.
You wanted to say something then, to pull your hand away from where it rested in her lap afterwards, to tell her that people didn't do this, that it wasn't normal, but since when have you ever wanted something normal? The reasons to keep quiet screamed so much louder than the ones that said you should stop it now. To talk about it would make it mean something, and there are some subjects you just avoid. Particularly matters of the heart.
The next kiss came nearly a month later. At a sleeepover. You were painting your nails black, all the colours Cat had tried to persuade you into discarded by the bed. Cat's nails were a minty green, still sticky. She braided your hair, weaving a thick rope down your back, fingers deft in their movements. A few strands had stuck to her nails, getting torn out when she moved her hand away, and you'd made a soft, sharp sound without meaning to, a twinge of pain in your scalp. She'd shushed you, stroking the braid more cautiously, and the scowl on your face had frozen as her lips brushed your neck, right where the gentle slope of your shoulder began.
“I'm sorry.”
She'd whispered the words into your skin, into your pulse, while you fought the urge to shiver, shoulders stiff under her hands. You could feel the smile in her lips as she moved away. She never mentioned the kisses, never talked about them. She didn't have to. She knew you'd never say a word about them. Your body told her all she needed to know. Her kisses were secrets she left on your skin, inscribed in invisible ink, your fingers the only thing that could reveal them. They left a scar underneath the skin, a mark that twinged when you pressed over the places she'd brushed.
Your cheek.
Your hand.
Your neck.
A leopard can't change its spots, and Cat was turning you into one, painting every immovable rosette with her lips, one at a time.
It was only a week later that Beck kissed you in the same spot, arms wrapped around you, chest hard against your back. You barely felt it, like Cat had burned that spot numb, in the shape of her lips. It'd still sent your heart racing, but instead of thoughts of Beck, it was Cat's fluttering touch that clouded your mind. You told Beck you didn't like having your neck kissed then. You lied. You'd twisted in his arms, turned and kissed him, his lips broad and cold, and your lips at least were one thing Cat hadn't marked. One thing you could still give to Beck.
Cat's lips found your heart next.
You were all at the beach. Beck, Andre, Robbie... Cat. Rex was even there, although it could've just been a bit of beach driftwood with a wig on.
It was the first day of summer, and it was awful. Instead of warm sunshine, there'd been a chill in the air, one that plucked goose bumps on your skin. The water was icy, every wave made of serrated shark's teeth that stung your skin red. The only amusing thing about it was how hard everyone tried to pretend they were having fun. Robbie built a sandcastle, knocking it down when his hands shivered too much. Beck and Andre had splashed each other in the water, eventually giving up and tossing a Frisbee back and forth. The only one who actually looked like she was having fun was Cat.
She skipped through the sand, played games with the freezing tide, squealing as the icy water nipped her toes whenever she wasn't fast enough. You sat on a beach-chair, sunglasses on despite the lack of sun, and spent the time trying not to shiver your black bikini off. Eventually they'd given it up, Beck, Robbie, and Andre trudging back to the car, towels wrapped around their shoulders in defeat.
Cat had trailed behind you on the way to the girl's restroom, sweat actually slick on her skin from all her bouncing around. You could feel the heat bleed off her as she stood next to you, bending to rifle through her pink backpack, material emblazoned with cartoons. You'd turned away to dig your own top out of your bag, relishing the thought of long sleeves. The restroom was even colder than outside, the smell of salt and cleaning products stinging the air. Cat's hand was like a ray of sunshine on your lower back, scorching the skin as you twisted to face her.
You'd flinched as her other hand burned your shoulder, heat spreading through you. She'd shuffled closer to you, torso almost touching yours, so close you could feel every breath she took, heat radiating from her. She'd looked up at you for a moment, like she was playing a game of join the dots and wanted to see what kind of picture she'd made so far. By now, it was one of anticipation. Cat had leant forward, and you'd tried to keep still as her lips planted themselves over your heart, cold, pale skin sizzling under her hot mouth, and somehow moving would've made it worse.
Maybe you were scared of what moves you would've made.
She'd pulled back, tongue running out over her lips, a smile perched on them, and even you'd glimpsed the red mark she'd left behind on your chest.
"You taste like salt." She'd said it in a tone half-laughing, half-teasing, and whatever sarcastic remark you would've made died as soon as it reached your throat, killed as Cat's kiss spread roots to your heart. Another spot on your coat.
Cat had turned away with a grin, and you'd turned away with a face more frozen than before, this time intentionally so, as a hole burned its way through your chest, singed in the shape of a cupids bow. You'd pulled your top on as quickly as you could, hurrying out of the restroom towards the car. You weren't cold anymore.
You taste like salt…
Everyone was already in the car, crammed into the tiny white hatchback Beck had borrowed from his uncle. You'd slid into the back, next to Andre, Robbie chatting animatedly with Beck in the front, Rex interjecting occasionally with a snide remark. Cat had emerged a moment later, clambering in beside you, bare thigh pressed against yours, tan contrasting your pale skin. She was fire, and you were ice, and she was slowly but surely melting you. You'd extinguish her if only everyone wouldn't see the steam.
You stayed silent while everyone chattered, offering non-committal sounds whenever you were dragged into the conversation. You stayed silent as the sun sunk, and everyone started yawning and stretching inside the cramped car, laughter louder than the mellow stereo. You stayed silent as Cat's hand crept onto your leg, fingers tickling your inner thigh.
You always say you don't remember that trip to the beach.
You kept waiting for the next kiss, every moment with Cat a held breath. Every day it didn't come was a day you could breathe again, and eventually you relaxed, fingers tracing the spots in the shower like they were old wounds, healed to nothing. Snapshots you could set down when you were done with them. Cat never was predictable though. Her next kiss came months later, and it was one that couldn't heal.
It was at another sleeepover. You'd avoided having Cat over for a while after the beach incident, making up flimsy excuses or just taking her out for ice-cream, anywhere that was public, really. You didn't see her claws for so long you assumed they were gone, despite the scars littering your body. You conveniently forgot that cats keep their claws sheathed. Until they need them.
Cat had been pawing through your movies, huddled on the carpet at the end of your bed, while you lay back on the mattress and counted spider webs, waiting for her to pick something.
"What about this one?"
You'd sat up, scooting to the end of the bed without thinking, squinting to see the movie Cat was waving at you.
"Hold it still!" You'd snapped, Cat shuffling up to you on her knees, hand snatching the DVD out of Cat's grasp. "Oh, this one." You'd flipped it over, scanning the blurb on the back. "It's- it's-"
You never got to finish your sentence, cut off by Cat's hands on your thighs. It was only then you realised how perfectly positioned she was, knelt right between your legs. You wouldn't have even realised if Cat hadn't, and you'd wondered then if she'd somehow planned it, or if it was an opportunity she'd snatched.
Your tongue had stuttered on the next word, a tiny smile spreading across Cat's face. The only thing she'd been waiting for was you. It was almost too easy for her to push your legs apart further, to lower her lips to just below where your pyjama shorts rode up on your inner thigh. You'd felt her breath tremble against your skin before her lips touched the sensitive skin, the soft caress of her lips hot and wet, so close. So close to you. You'd tried to keep still, to remain immobile like you had all the other times, to ignore that quivering string she strummed inside of you. But the quiet sound of Cat's lips on your skin snapped it. You'd let out a breath like a sob, and just for a moment, Cat had frozen. Until one word broke free of your mouth, in a voice you'd never heard before.
"Please."
Cat had looked up at you, smile gone, and her eyes inscrutable. And maybe if you'd said nothing, maybe if you'd just played dead like all the times before, that kiss would've been Cat's only one. Maybe that dread you'd felt for so long had been anticipation, a hope you couldn't acknowledge.
Her hand had moved to your stomach, the smallest amount of pressure pushing against you. A test, and one you passed with flying colours, lying back on the bed obediently. Cat's fingers had hooked in the waistband of your shorts, loose material sliding down easily, and part of you wondered what if you had said something in that movie theatre. What if you'd said stop?
But if you couldn't say stop to a simple kiss on the hand, what hope did you have now? Cat's kisses were insidious. They'd found their way to your bloodstream, infected you, pushed out with every heartbeat. Her spots were a disease, and they'd spread all over your insides, speckling every organ and muscle and bone, a leopard of lips, of touch. Every part of you was hers, she just hadn't claimed it yet.
Her lips only brought that poison to the surface, a patina of a pucker, rosy red. And with one soft kiss that made your hips jerk and your hands clench, she brought you completely undone. Her hands had pinned your hips in place, that small kiss a precursor to her tongue. Your fingers had twisted into claws in the bed sheets, teeth sinking into your lower lip, and she'd turned you into something with claws and fangs. A cat, just like her.
You weren't a still snapshot anymore, you were a full colour feature film, and Cat was jamming her finger on the play button over and over, sending you stuttering and shuddering. Every film has a climax, and it didn't take you long to reach yours, every spot Cat had spread throbbing, a constellation of sensation across your body.
She'd finished with one small, soft kiss on your hip. An artist's signature on her canvas.
After that, you were an ellipse, waiting for her to continue you, waiting for the next word to leave her mouth and tattoo your skin. You were a pause, and a heavily pregnant one at that, far overdue. You were waiting for her to take the one place Beck still had dominion over; your lips. To drip her poison over your tongue, down your throat, and into the pit of your stomach.
There were times, in the middle of the night, where you'd be overcome, and you'd kiss Beck as hard as you could, in some vain attempt to meld his lips into the shape of hers, to fool yourself into getting that kiss that'd never happened, notable only by its omission.
It was the one place she should've kissed.
She's kissed you everywhere. But not there.
Everywhere but your lips.
Now you're here with her, in your room, in a situation you've set up a dozen times, hoping that she'll take the hint and do what you can't. But Cat's swinging her feet, perched on the edge of your bed, and the only thing she's doing with her cupid's bow of a mouth is humming. You can't help but shiver at the thought of her buzzing mouth on your skin, stinging you yet again.
"Do you wanna watch a movie or something?" You say the words nonchalantly, but your mind is already picturing the DVD you never ended up watching. Maybe you'll have a chance to not watch it again.
"'Kay 'kay." Cat says happily, bouncing to her feet. "I'll pick one!"
You watch her as she rifles through your DVD collection, still humming. You feel all arms and legs, a loose mess of joints and arteries and bones and muscle. The only thing that holds you together are where Cat's sown her kisses, and you're more aware of her stitches than ever. Every movement of her mouth is one you can match to your body.
Everywhere but your lips.
You sit stiffly on the end of your bed, Cat throwing herself beside you as the movie starts, her shoulder jostling yours warmly. Your hand rests on your knee, and Cat's lips rest just inside your palm. You clench your fingers, trying to get rid of the memory, but it's never worked before, and this this time is no exception.
"Cat-" You can't stop your palm from itching, other hand moving to scratch it, your nails short and sharp.
"Mm?"
Your heart starts to pound, and it's like a lighter is pressed over it, skin hot and crawling. "Cat, I-"
Your cheeks are burning, a blush spreading across your face, a crawling sensation on your neck. You try to still your hands, shoving them into your lap. "Cat, I don't... I..."
You press your thighs together, trying to ease the throbbing that's started there.
"What is it?" Cat tilts her head at you, eyebrows furrowed, and every word she speaks is matched by a strong pulse between your legs. Every word she shapes with her sweet, pink lips.
"Why... why haven't-" The words stumble out of your mouth, hesitant and stilted. You've spent so much time trying not to talk about this, about what she does, that even when you want, even when you need to, you can't. You take a deep breath, linking your fingers together and keeping them locked between your legs. It makes you feel a little more together.
"You've kissed me everywhere." You say it quietly, eyes fixed on the ground, and it feels like you're telling her a secret somehow. That you noticed every time her lips touched your skin, even if you never said a word. She already knows that though. Your body's told her everything. The one word that bled from your lips last time was just the cherry on your sundae, and Cat had popped that into her mouth with a grin.
Cat's silent for a moment, before nodding. "Everywhere but your lips."
"Why? Why everywhere but there?" You try to keep your voice soft, to keep the crawling need out of it. You're genuinely curious. She's come so close, lips soft on your cheeks, but she's never even accidentally grazed there.
She's never even tried to.
Cat's mouth twists, sending a twinge through you. She glances up at you, chocolate eyes inscrutable. The same look she gave you when you'd let that one word slip.
“Please.”
"It's the one place that can kiss me back." Her fingers curl on her lap, tongue running out over her lower lip, and you start to realise why she's kept her lips to your skin.
She's stamped your whole body with her kisses, felt it freeze and twitch and shiver underneath her. Your skin could never reject her, your body could never shove her away. But your lips? They would've frozen just as your body did, Cat's burning mouth unable to melt them. Cat could never have kissed you there, she never would have. The choice is yours, and its own indecision that's brought you here. If you'd told her to stop, she would have. But you were too busy trying not to say yes to even think of saying no.
You take Cat's hand.
Her fingers are shaking as you bring them to your lips, pressing them over her knuckles. You can feel her pulse pounding as you touch over her neck, the skin warm and fragrant, a perfume that tickles your nose.
Your lips find her cheek next, a little gasp creeping into your ears, Cat's breath feathering your neck. You're painting your spots on her, making her a mirror image of you. There's only one spot left clean on both of you, and, after a short pause, you dirty it.
Cat's lips are soft and warm, the same shape you've felt impressed into your skin so many times. You trace them with your own, eyes shut tight, every contour and curve already stamped in your brain. They taste sweet, like strawberries or coconut or whatever lip gloss she used this morning, and you're glad it's faded, because her own taste is so much better.
She tastes like coffee in the morning, she tastes like blood from a nicked finger, she tastes like a cold lungful of icy air, sucked down in the middle of the night. She tastes like things that send your heart racing. She's bleeding into your brain, and as your tongue runs out over her bottom lip, you realise it's just what you wanted. You're a leopard now, and you can't change your spots.
But neither can she.
She's kissed you everywhere.
Even on your lips.
Barbie
- 12.03.2021
- 11
- 0
