oneshot : butterflies
title: Butterflies
author: Sharmel
pairing: Billie/Mike
rating: R
summary: "I pictured that he would take me to an isolated location, far away from the blinding city lights, the intimidating skyscrapers, and away from any judgemental stares that seared holes in my tight, black, filthy jeans."
A/N:
This goes out to ordinaryxday because I don't know what I'd do without her.
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A single ray of light shone through the closed blinds and it happened to slap my eyes wide open. The bedroom was pitch-dark except for that tiny speck of sun that was prying its way through the thick, black blinds. And all the while, I lied there silently in my warm cocoon as if waiting for spring to come by once again so I could emerge from my hallow nest. But my spring would never come, and I was left here all alone, unattended, with a new body pressed against me.
My half-lidded eyes were absentmindedly focused on the blinding light and how every so often, a light, gusty draft would come along and gently push the blinds forward. Each time that happened, the light would momentarily increase by a fraction. But then the light would decrease as the breeze died. And I think I must’ve dozed off after awhile because the next thing I knew it, I could hear his voice - his voice that rang crystal clear through my overly exposed ears.
I could just picture him staring at me with those piercing blue eyes. His head would shake in shame and disappointment and would tug these unclean sheets and arms off my fragile, marked body. Then, with his muscular tattooed-covered arms, he would sweep me off the bed and take me away; somewhere far away from my latest hell hole. I pictured that he would take me to an isolated location, far away from the blinding city lights, the intimidating skyscrapers, and away from any judgemental stares that seared holes in my tight, black, filthy jeans.
He would take me under a foreign tree - an oak tree with a sea of green carnations scattered around us, hiding us from anything condemning. Then his eyes would soften - those soft baby blue eyes of his. His calloused, slender fingers would stroke my cheek as his eyes - those powerful eyes would stare into my sickly green ones with such a bundle of emotions that needed to be decoded. And the only way I could was through time, and time wasn’t something we had; it was something we never had.
His fine lips would curve into a tiny smile that could make any woman’s heart swoon, and I would think, why me? Why choose me out of all people? And he would press tiny kisses on my face, my cheek, my forehead, my ears and would refuse to kiss my lips until my cheeks were rosy and warm, and certainly not until my lips were slightly parted from the pressure his hands were building on the crook of my neck and the arch of my back. Then when I least expected it, when I was all entranced by his dizzying butterfly kisses, he would launch his lips onto mine. And his kisses, they never failed to send high volts of electricity down my petit body - he was the only one who ever did. And he would start slow, painfully slow with his tongue tamed as a wild lion. Then once his fingers slip inside underneath my flimsy shirt, the wild lion would be set loose to kill. With skill and little effort, his mouth would coax mine open and his dominant tongue would enter my unprepared lips to battle it out. Of course, he always won.
But all the while, my mind would be enthralled by his hands that slowly made their way toward my chest. The friction, the pressure he was making made my knees give out. And we would slowly sink lower and lower onto the ground with my back against the old, oak tree. Our lips would part for a split second and before I could comprehend what was going on, my shirt and his shirt would be dispersed and our lips would collide once more; more hungrily, more needy, more purposely.
A shiver would run straight through me as our bodies touched. His heart and mine would pound furiously in unison and it would be right then and there when a soft moan would escape my luscious lips. I would feel his mouth form into a hidden, taunting smirk as his lips left mine. And holyfuckingshit, his lips would latch themselves onto my neck and those skilled hands would reach the waistband of my tight jeans. A light breeze would come along and would send another violent shiver up my spine as the wind would hit the wet trail his half-swollen mouth left.
My voice betrayed me as an uncontrollable groan would be let loose as his hand touched me right there, right fucking there and his tongue, his ohsofuckingskilled tongue would swirl in and out of my bellybutton. He was the only one that took the time to do this slowly and right. He was the only one who was gentle. He was the only one that made me feel as if I actually mattered. And sometimes I believed him, there was that one time that I did believe him. But good things never last.
By then, my mind was officially working overdrive. It took all will and brainpower to mumble anything, let alone coherently. Before I knew it, my pants were gone and it always amazed me how swiftly they came off. He was the only one who took them off with ease. And that’s when I felt another chilly draft cover my body. I felt myself shiver. But then in mere moments, his breath, which smelled like expensive cigarettes and some expensive brand of exported beer, would hit me and it sent me shattering back down to earth. A wave of heat sent me crashing back and sent me off to absolute bliss. He was the only one who bothered to warm me up. He never did treat me like the scum I was.
All the while, my head was lolling back and forth. His large hands rubbed my skinny thighs so lightly that it was driving me insane. His tongue, his lips, they teased me, they tormented me, they knew exactly what I wanted. And right before I came, right then and there, he stopped. He looked at me, hard. If he really were some wild lion, he certainly would have growled low and possessively. And as he attached his lips onto mine, his jeans would’ve been discarded along with the rest of our clothing and would’ve been left until god knows when. The space between our bodies would be nonexistent. Our body parts would get lost between the two of us and our tattooed arms would get tangled up with one another.
He would start slow, he always did, and he was really fucking gentle as if he were afraid to break me. There were definitely several times when I thought he would but it all felt so good, so fucking good. He was the only one who made it feel good and right. And once he was inside me, god it felt so unbearably hot. But the grass beneath us would make up for it like chocolate ice cream on a hot summer day.
Then his baby blues would search intently in mine like he genuinely cared. And when my sickly green eyes gave him the go signal, the pace quicken. A loud moan would fill our ears and that was it; that was the key that released the raw energy locked inside him. And god, he was the only one who did it right. He was the only one who made me moan like a whore and made it feel worthwhile.
Our lips would brush and dance with one another, and I would feel his strong hands curl tightly around mine. Our colourful arms blended with each other. His chest would be pressed up right against mine and our ankles would be locked around together. The only music that filled our ears was our laboured breathing, the slick sound of him moving in me, the pounding beats of our hearts, and the delicate wind that hovered us.
His hand gripped me harder and that was it. That was all she wrote. My mind went blank for a split millisecond. And he was done. We were both done. And we would lie there together with his tattoo-covered arms wrapped around me. Our sweaty chests would rise up and down in unison and it almost felt as if we were one, as if we were a whole. But we weren’t.
And after what felt like hours, his lips grazed my ear and barely audible, he would murmur, “I wish this could last forever.”
So did I. But it wouldn’t and it couldn’t. Then, he would ask me to stay with him forever and to never leave his side. But he knew I couldn’t and how I wouldn’t even though that was what my heart screamed and bled. He knew that as we silently got dressed with my pocket stuffed with dirty papers and drove me back to where he had always found me. He knew that when I wasn’t there the next time he drove by and the time after that. And sometimes I wished that I had said yes or responded in any way. Then sometimes I wish I wasn’t so worthless. But then I would think, if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met him.
And the funny thing was, no matter how many times he chose me and told me those very words, not once did he say his name. Not once did he ask for my name. But even though we both remained nameless, he knew me all too well. Sometimes, I was afraid he knew me better than I knew myself.
Another gusty draft would hit the black blinds and the blinding sun would slap my eyes open once more. The oak tree and the sea of green carnations disappeared along with his baby blues. My spring was already long gone and I missed my chance to dance about with the rest of the butterflies. I was stuck in my hell hole with an unfamiliar arm wrapped around my fragile body. An arm that contrasted against my tattooed covered arms.
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Hope you guys liked it. Funny thing, this was the fastest I've ever wrote a oneshot. Wrote this little ficlet in under an hour. All these words just came flowing out of fingers, and before I knew it, all done.
And as always, I love feedback and any comments. Thanks for reading. <3
author: Sharmel
pairing: Billie/Mike
rating: R
summary: "I pictured that he would take me to an isolated location, far away from the blinding city lights, the intimidating skyscrapers, and away from any judgemental stares that seared holes in my tight, black, filthy jeans."
A/N:
This goes out to ordinaryxday because I don't know what I'd do without her.
-----------
A single ray of light shone through the closed blinds and it happened to slap my eyes wide open. The bedroom was pitch-dark except for that tiny speck of sun that was prying its way through the thick, black blinds. And all the while, I lied there silently in my warm cocoon as if waiting for spring to come by once again so I could emerge from my hallow nest. But my spring would never come, and I was left here all alone, unattended, with a new body pressed against me.
My half-lidded eyes were absentmindedly focused on the blinding light and how every so often, a light, gusty draft would come along and gently push the blinds forward. Each time that happened, the light would momentarily increase by a fraction. But then the light would decrease as the breeze died. And I think I must’ve dozed off after awhile because the next thing I knew it, I could hear his voice - his voice that rang crystal clear through my overly exposed ears.
I could just picture him staring at me with those piercing blue eyes. His head would shake in shame and disappointment and would tug these unclean sheets and arms off my fragile, marked body. Then, with his muscular tattooed-covered arms, he would sweep me off the bed and take me away; somewhere far away from my latest hell hole. I pictured that he would take me to an isolated location, far away from the blinding city lights, the intimidating skyscrapers, and away from any judgemental stares that seared holes in my tight, black, filthy jeans.
He would take me under a foreign tree - an oak tree with a sea of green carnations scattered around us, hiding us from anything condemning. Then his eyes would soften - those soft baby blue eyes of his. His calloused, slender fingers would stroke my cheek as his eyes - those powerful eyes would stare into my sickly green ones with such a bundle of emotions that needed to be decoded. And the only way I could was through time, and time wasn’t something we had; it was something we never had.
His fine lips would curve into a tiny smile that could make any woman’s heart swoon, and I would think, why me? Why choose me out of all people? And he would press tiny kisses on my face, my cheek, my forehead, my ears and would refuse to kiss my lips until my cheeks were rosy and warm, and certainly not until my lips were slightly parted from the pressure his hands were building on the crook of my neck and the arch of my back. Then when I least expected it, when I was all entranced by his dizzying butterfly kisses, he would launch his lips onto mine. And his kisses, they never failed to send high volts of electricity down my petit body - he was the only one who ever did. And he would start slow, painfully slow with his tongue tamed as a wild lion. Then once his fingers slip inside underneath my flimsy shirt, the wild lion would be set loose to kill. With skill and little effort, his mouth would coax mine open and his dominant tongue would enter my unprepared lips to battle it out. Of course, he always won.
But all the while, my mind would be enthralled by his hands that slowly made their way toward my chest. The friction, the pressure he was making made my knees give out. And we would slowly sink lower and lower onto the ground with my back against the old, oak tree. Our lips would part for a split second and before I could comprehend what was going on, my shirt and his shirt would be dispersed and our lips would collide once more; more hungrily, more needy, more purposely.
A shiver would run straight through me as our bodies touched. His heart and mine would pound furiously in unison and it would be right then and there when a soft moan would escape my luscious lips. I would feel his mouth form into a hidden, taunting smirk as his lips left mine. And holyfuckingshit, his lips would latch themselves onto my neck and those skilled hands would reach the waistband of my tight jeans. A light breeze would come along and would send another violent shiver up my spine as the wind would hit the wet trail his half-swollen mouth left.
My voice betrayed me as an uncontrollable groan would be let loose as his hand touched me right there, right fucking there and his tongue, his ohsofuckingskilled tongue would swirl in and out of my bellybutton. He was the only one that took the time to do this slowly and right. He was the only one who was gentle. He was the only one that made me feel as if I actually mattered. And sometimes I believed him, there was that one time that I did believe him. But good things never last.
By then, my mind was officially working overdrive. It took all will and brainpower to mumble anything, let alone coherently. Before I knew it, my pants were gone and it always amazed me how swiftly they came off. He was the only one who took them off with ease. And that’s when I felt another chilly draft cover my body. I felt myself shiver. But then in mere moments, his breath, which smelled like expensive cigarettes and some expensive brand of exported beer, would hit me and it sent me shattering back down to earth. A wave of heat sent me crashing back and sent me off to absolute bliss. He was the only one who bothered to warm me up. He never did treat me like the scum I was.
All the while, my head was lolling back and forth. His large hands rubbed my skinny thighs so lightly that it was driving me insane. His tongue, his lips, they teased me, they tormented me, they knew exactly what I wanted. And right before I came, right then and there, he stopped. He looked at me, hard. If he really were some wild lion, he certainly would have growled low and possessively. And as he attached his lips onto mine, his jeans would’ve been discarded along with the rest of our clothing and would’ve been left until god knows when. The space between our bodies would be nonexistent. Our body parts would get lost between the two of us and our tattooed arms would get tangled up with one another.
He would start slow, he always did, and he was really fucking gentle as if he were afraid to break me. There were definitely several times when I thought he would but it all felt so good, so fucking good. He was the only one who made it feel good and right. And once he was inside me, god it felt so unbearably hot. But the grass beneath us would make up for it like chocolate ice cream on a hot summer day.
Then his baby blues would search intently in mine like he genuinely cared. And when my sickly green eyes gave him the go signal, the pace quicken. A loud moan would fill our ears and that was it; that was the key that released the raw energy locked inside him. And god, he was the only one who did it right. He was the only one who made me moan like a whore and made it feel worthwhile.
Our lips would brush and dance with one another, and I would feel his strong hands curl tightly around mine. Our colourful arms blended with each other. His chest would be pressed up right against mine and our ankles would be locked around together. The only music that filled our ears was our laboured breathing, the slick sound of him moving in me, the pounding beats of our hearts, and the delicate wind that hovered us.
His hand gripped me harder and that was it. That was all she wrote. My mind went blank for a split millisecond. And he was done. We were both done. And we would lie there together with his tattoo-covered arms wrapped around me. Our sweaty chests would rise up and down in unison and it almost felt as if we were one, as if we were a whole. But we weren’t.
And after what felt like hours, his lips grazed my ear and barely audible, he would murmur, “I wish this could last forever.”
So did I. But it wouldn’t and it couldn’t. Then, he would ask me to stay with him forever and to never leave his side. But he knew I couldn’t and how I wouldn’t even though that was what my heart screamed and bled. He knew that as we silently got dressed with my pocket stuffed with dirty papers and drove me back to where he had always found me. He knew that when I wasn’t there the next time he drove by and the time after that. And sometimes I wished that I had said yes or responded in any way. Then sometimes I wish I wasn’t so worthless. But then I would think, if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met him.
And the funny thing was, no matter how many times he chose me and told me those very words, not once did he say his name. Not once did he ask for my name. But even though we both remained nameless, he knew me all too well. Sometimes, I was afraid he knew me better than I knew myself.
Another gusty draft would hit the black blinds and the blinding sun would slap my eyes open once more. The oak tree and the sea of green carnations disappeared along with his baby blues. My spring was already long gone and I missed my chance to dance about with the rest of the butterflies. I was stuck in my hell hole with an unfamiliar arm wrapped around my fragile body. An arm that contrasted against my tattooed covered arms.
--------
Hope you guys liked it. Funny thing, this was the fastest I've ever wrote a oneshot. Wrote this little ficlet in under an hour. All these words just came flowing out of fingers, and before I knew it, all done.
And as always, I love feedback and any comments. Thanks for reading. <3