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Human Touch - part 10/10: "salvation, motherfucking grace"

by Ralu

I brush my thumb across his lowered eyelids - just the slightest, barely noticeable touch - and I know he feels it too: the comfort. The intimacy. I swear, sometimes it seems like there's absolutely no space, no distance whatsoever between us, not even for a breath of air to slide across our bodies. It feels almost like we're one. Fucking unreal; so, so unlike anything. He whispers inside my mouth, feeding on me. Letting me feed on him. It's the most perfect symbiosis.

He pushes me against the wall, I know he wants to. He needs to. And I let him. We LET each other - I guess it's the best way to describe this thing we have; nobody's forcing anybody here. We both want this, we're both trapped, tangled. But...honestly, what else is new? We're both addicts, we gotta hang on to something, right? It's in our nature. Except...this is different. I feel it constantly, I felt it from the beginning, really. So weirdly true, so right, so *there*. In my bones, ignition from the inside out - burning flames licking my throat, my belly; his taste on my tongue - nauseatingly sweet...like blood. Nothing and nobody's made me feel like this. Nobody's *made* me like he did. Does. It's fucking terrifying, and I can't help but ask for more, *crave* for more. The only response that my body, my mind, my whole goddamn being is capable of in front of this. In front of him.

Tongue flashing just for a second across those sharp teeth of his, that fucked up snort, a low, soft, genuinely amused chuckle - and I swear to Christ, electric sparks flow around us, glowing in the darkest darkness. Tenderness, underneath all the hurt, all the scars and unhealed wounds. Hidden beneath regrets and mistakes - an untouched, untarnished, soft core vibrating with such passion, so much not-in-a-million-years-to-be-guessed intensity, it's almost painful.

Palm to palm, fingers locked for dominance - each of us trying to overpower the other. A stupid, mindless game, considering...we're both giving up here. Surrendering, no matter who ends up being on top. Don't really matter, at the end of the day. Sure, it's part of the game, part of the endless struggle, but...what both of us want, what we both know we need, is that way out of Oz. Out of ourselves. And dominance, that sense of control over the part of you that you're still allowed to claim self-fucking-determination in this place - that don't mean shit without release. A sense of...safety. Abandonment through closeness. We both need it...we're addicts, after all, aren't we? And an addict - though he searches for the tiniest shred of self-control through his addiction - eventually ends up admitting his own defeat. Addiction becomes control; control turns into surrender. Yeah, very fucking philosophical...coming from a high school dropout.

Still...his breath on my skin, that small, aborted, raspy noise in the back of his throat - like he's about to choke or something...that's what makes sense. Unbearable fucking sweetness. Blood - red, hot, fucking boiling, burning my insides - flowing through my wrists, his wrists, clutching onto mine. Peeling me - layer of aching skin by layer of broken skin - until he's there, inside me, sharp as a knife's edge. Twisting into my flesh, every need-soaked nerve. Hitting something, something I've always known was mine, but never had someone - anyone - to actually prove me right. And sweet Jesus!... It feels so good, so nice to have this man's promise, his unspoken belief - his TRUTH. "You are worthy..." It's so beautiful, so surreal. Yet...so palpable. So intense. So NEAR. I've never had this. And nobody - man, woman, fucking whatever - has ever made me feel like this. So completely disarmed. Naked. Powerless. (Powerful.)

I brush my thumb across his lowered eyelids - just the slightest, barely noticeable touch - and I know he feels it too: salvation, motherfucking grace... Forgiveness, trust. Love. Flowing through our bodies like a vital stream. Intoxicating.

Highest high and...the lowest low, right? 'Cause, after all...we're both addicts...

Still...nobody's ever touched me...(--like *he* does.)

---the end---
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