Sensation
Prompt: I was under the influence of drugs (#12), Reasons People Have Sex, fc_smorgasbord
Genre: AR, Drama
Rating: PG13
A weary hand fluttered down his face. He tilted his dark head back, wishing the migraines would go away.
Distantly, he heard a scramble near the window, and knew without opening his eyes, that Berry- no, Berrie, was here - the girl took to changing the spelling of her name once every few weeks.
He imagined her gangly tangle of limbs awkwardly easing through the small, rectangular space, and his eyes only fluttered momentarily at her touch. Her fingers skimmed his features briefly, before cradling his head into a light embrace. Her lips whispered into his cheek.
“I’ve got something for you.”
Darien’s eyes opened, beautiful in their pain and sorrow. Berrie let her long fingers unfold, where the center of her palm cradled two pale green tablets.
A pair of eyes, one cornflower blue, one a teary silver, surrounded by a cape of blonde, almost platinum tendrils
Darien shook his head free of the image, picking up a tablet and studying it for a moment. A crescent moon with a face etched into the pill.
A sudden pain in his brow had him shutting his eyes and jerking his head back, banging into the flimsy wood paneling of his small barren room. When the ache persisted, he cupped his hand to his mouth, effectively throwing the small piece down his esophagus.
He forced himself to stillness and did not move for a very long time.
Berrie, on the other hand, took her pill with a swig from the water bottle she’d brought and cuddled into Darien’s cold side, even wrapping his deadweight arm about her shoulders. Both of them waited for euphoria to begin.
Eventually, Darien’s arm loosened, while Berrie’s hands began to track up and down his torso. Languidly at first, and then more hectically, the two stripped, caressing each other and becoming bolder with each selfish arch, each taking caress, each false kiss intensified by the drug.
And finally, as Darien moved his lanky teenaged body above hers, he watched not her face or her eyes wavering between dark blue and violet-
He kept living a sense of disparagement and condemnation whenever he thought they wavered toward the latter.
-but her black hair that cascaded over the thin, worn sheet of the twin bed he no longer fit in. Its long length traveled over the white in dark rivulets of deepwater depths, crossing and weaving erratically.
It made him think of moonless nights, when stars peeked timidly into the obscure gloom.
He moved against her willingness, relishing in the pleasure, but more so in the lack of pain. No headaches, no sleeplessness, no anxiety or fatigue.
Just…
…sensation.
And afterwards, while he lay prone next to her, resting with the forced stillness he always seemed to crave, she would continue to press her body against his, touching him everywhere he would let her, easing him, comforting him, loving him the only way she knew how, the only way he would let her.
Next week, she’d be back with more.
Maybe he would love her then.