The Contradiction of Solitude(36)

Tasting the blood.

Tasting the fear.

Tasting it all.

I moaned low and raw in the back of my throat, nails digging into flesh, tongue lapping at the colors of my hate. Of my love.

Of my soul.

“Layna,” Elian groaned, trying to turn. I wouldn’t let him.

I replaced my tongue with my teeth. Scrapping. Nibbling.

Devouring.

Mine.

“What are you doing to me?” he cried as I began to move my body against his. His front still pressed to the bed. His back destroyed by the magnificent star, the nautical star, my only focus.

He writhed. I took.

I wanted.

All of it.

“I need to be inside of you,” he whispered, his fist against his mouth, biting his knuckles.

“Why?” I asked. Lapping. Biting. Mine.

“It’s where I belong.”

I said nothing. No denial. No consent.

Only this.

“Please,” he begged. I smiled. True and real.

I let him roll over.

I let him take my body.

I let him have what he needed.

I had already taken what I wanted.

It was still wet on my lips.



“I’m guessing that I’m forgiven?” Elian asked much, much later. His bashful question posed in the most careful way possible. His worries were back.

This time they belonged to me.

“You’re forgiven,” I assured him. And he was. He had given me so much. More than he could possibly know.

He touched my hip and I flinched. It was too late now, he had already seen.

“Wow,” he breathed, leaning in close. His lips made contact with resisting flesh. He kissed my magnificent star so much like the colors I tasted on his back.

“It’s just like mine.” Elian frowned.

Don’t…

“What does this mean to you?” he asked, sounding hoarse and cracked. His question falling over itself as it tripped out of his mouth.

“It’s so I can always find my way home,” I explained.

He kissed the star again. Again. Again. Kissing it until the skin was red from his lips and tongue.

“What does it mean to you?” I put my hand on the back of his head, stilling him. Stopping him.

I could feel his warm breath on the star. A touch of moisture from hidden eyes.

“Not forgetting,” he finally answered, and I smiled. He rested his cheek against my hip, looking up at me through soaked lashes. I wiped the stray tear from his face, tucking it between my lips, sucking it down.

“I can lose everything else…but some things shouldn’t be forgotten. Never.” His body coiled tight, and I knew this meant so much to him.

“I agree with that completely.” Elian ran his nose along my hip, over the points and lines of my tattoo.

“Where are you from, Layna Whitaker? Why are you here?” Kisses. Callous illusions fogging my mind. Making it easy to let honesty bleed from hidden wounds.

“Norton Hill, Maryland,” I told him. Would he know? Would it matter?

“What’s it like in Norton Hill?” Kisses. Blissful addictions, I was consumed.

I leaned back against the pillows, covering my eyes with my hand, blocking out the sun. “It’s small and restrictive.”

Elian chuckled. I could feel the vibrations in the tucked away parts of me that hadn’t seen the light in too long.

“So, like every other small town in America.”

I shook my head, dismissing his amusement. Throwing it away. “No. Not like that. It’s a place that sucks you dry and you’re left with only a husk. Nothing of who you were before. It’s not a place for love and acceptance. It’s full of hate and judgment.” My voice trembled. I hadn’t realized how much emotion was still tied to the place of my childhood.

I hadn’t wanted to give Elian any of me. There were things, secret things that belonged only to me. But I handed one of them to this man, who had kissed my star and given me his truthful tears. Bricks fell down. Walls wavered.

“I’m sorry, Layna,” Elian gave me his apology that had nothing to do with him. And I accepted it. It felt good.

I ran my fingers through his hair and gave it a little pull. Partly in anger, partly in jest.

“Where does Elian Beyer call home?” Elian laughed, making this dark discussion into something sweet. Something good.

How was he able to do that?

I tingled. No buzzing.

“Diamond Creek, Pennsylvania. Home of the Dolphins.” I giggled. I giggled? I couldn’t stop. He did this to me. Elian Beyer. Unconditional Elian Beyer.

“Are there a lot of dolphins in Pennsylvania?” I asked, my fingers straying down his back, over the star. He kissed mine. I touched his.

Our stories…our stars…our unyielding history that wouldn’t go away.

In our blood.

In our hearts.

Always.

“Uh, I don’t think so. It’s a big joke actually. Dudley the Dolphin is the high school mascot. My sister—” He stopped abruptly. Completely.

Done.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in my stomach. I braced myself for his emotional onslaught. I waited for the tide to take me under.

I pulled away. Back and far. Distant from his needy hands and grasping mouth.