A&E Femslash
Snippet
Eames is languid. Her body, an easy sprawl across the stone steps leading to your flat, head tilted as she stares into the distance. Dirty blond hair falls over her shades, light slips between her parted lips. Sunset etches her in shadows and arches, stains her golden and orange even as her lips collapse into a Rorschach silhouette.
You drag a rubber band through your sweaty hair, bang the front wheel of your bike against the frame as you drags into the hallway and fists through your bag for the key. If your movements are more agitated than normal it's only because ignoring her drains you. And sets you alight. Eames is a paradox in motion.
When you look out the window, after night has fallen, she is gone. The flower she’d twirled between her fingers lies crushed on the step. Light from the streetlamp pours cool over the mess of pulp and petal. An apt metaphor.
*
The first time you see Eames there’s something unspeakably sad about her. Eyes sliding shut, the bruise swelling around them, her lips pulled tight between her teeth. She’s a wreck and you’ve never loved her more. In that moment all you know is want. And the want keeps you through everything else.
*
When Eames comes, she looks like she’s dying. Lips a perfect O, silenced for once, body caught in single imperfect moment, still. You want to capture her like this. Keep her forever.
You let her go every time.
*
Her flannel shirt swirls in the London wind. It’s too cold to be standing alone on a bridge. You watch the curve of her ear, the whirl of her hair, the twist of her neck breaks your heart.
That’s what you’ve always loved about her.
From the start, she breaks your heart.
*
Her fingers slide down your lips, your chin, your breasts. Your breath catches. She catches you. Her eyes-brown and so close. You can’t feel anything but her, a calloused finger, one single trial sliding down your body, rewriting you. She recreates you-leaves you as a single hot line, a tear flowing all the way down.
*
Tongue flicks over her nipple. Finger, wet and warm in her mouth. Your thigh pressing between hers. Life slows down for you. Time eases to a stroll. Only your hands, your hips, your callouses exist. Only this moment gliding underwater; all sound suctioned out. Only this feeling. You fall in love slow as molasses. Just as sweet. And it undoes you.
You are submerged.
Dying.
Blissful.