lovelyheadspace

It's his first time drinking and her twenty-first and they both know that they shouldn't. But they do anyways. His hands are on her and they're laughing through hazy kisses and she thinks 'why the hell not?' He's always saying there's a relative chance that they don't exist anyways, so what do a few sins matter? Besides, it feels good. He makes her feel good and it might be the only time she's ever heard him say please. Good is moaning his god's name in vain and his please is a breathy groan masquerading as her name. A few dozen sins with breathy moans and their names that don't exist, in a bed that doesn't exist, with feelings that don'

"Don't touch me," she begs, a half-sob. Her hands shaking as she jerks away from his touch. "I can't think when you're touching me." Something in him breaks to see her flinch like that. "And I can't think when I'm not." Aaron says, voice rough with lust and hurt and, oh god, fear. She makes a noise, a whimper masquerading as a scoff, dragging her fingers through her curls. "God don't say that." Her fumbling hands pull her jacket tighter, her shield against him. "It's true." Aaron insists, head reeling. The air's thick enough to choke on, his skin is too tight, everything's so flawed. "I'm not your muse. I'm your whore." "No-" "You're ma

"Please don't cry." He pleads. He can't be the one pleading she thinks. It's absurd that he'd plead. It's improper. He's not allowed to plead. Not when he's just broken her heart into a thousand pieces. But he is and he does and his voice cracks as he tries not to reach out and comfort her. "Please Liz, don't cry. Please. I-" He swallows his heart and rubs the back of his neck, he's trying not to lose his resolve. This is the right thing to do. "Lizzie. Please." Every bone in his body wants to reach out. To draw her close. To kiss away her tears. He aches as she folds in tighter on herself, trying to keep her pieces from shattering at his fee