Heat

Nothing more than just a kiss; tried to make this a lust-filled romance. It's my first try, and I doubt it's any good, but I'd enjoy feedback. c:

The silence creeped behind us as our fingers entwined with each other. I could feel his breath -- warm, soothing, heavy, and somewhat shaky. My eyes were bloodshot as I stared into the distance behind his hunched body; my hands parted from his and began to wander over each fragment of his spinal chord. It wasn't much of a hug, per say, considering the fact that parts of my arms were still hovering over his body. Some would call it an air hug; I'm not so sure. 

I raised my hands off of his upper back and brought them back to my shoulder blades, only taking a second to hesitate before I dropped them at my sides. His left hand caressed the back of my neck softly, making sure to play with all of the leftover hairs that couldn't be held by my hairtie. The chills that were sent throughout my body were sparadic, and the way he whispered into my ear made me a trembling mess.

The air around us grew hot as our bodies came closer in contact. I felt his heaving chest against mine, both of our hearts racing. I could see the beads of sweat dripping down his face, plastering his licorice black hair to his skin. I bit my lip gently, trying to not break through the skin and reach blood; that would be awful, and I wouldn't need my disgust from iron-taste ruining the mood.

With his left hand still cupped around the back of my neck, I felt his other hand move down the arch of my back. I became alert, but ignored my instincts of pushing him away. I liked it. I liked the feeling of his hands all over my body; it was wonderful. 

"I love you," he cooed into my ear as he brought both of his hands up to my neck. I didn't utter a single word; instead, I giggled nervously as my arms wrapped around the small of his back. 

I could feel him lift his head off of my shoulder, so I did in the same in hopes that I didn't mess anything up; this moment was perfect, and I have a habit of ruining everything. With his sea-green eyes narrowed -- not in a way that would show anger, more as a sign of lust -- I observed that his sight moved from my lips, back to my eyes; this continued for another minute or two, my mind still oblivious to the hints he was dropping.

It took a while, but I finally caught on.

Moving my weight onto the toes of my boots, I raised my body a little more so I would be face-to-face with him. Our eyes locked as our breaths grew shorter, faster. Over time, sweat had formed onto my hands out of anticipation. I quickly wiped my palms onto my checkered skinny jeans before I brought my hands up to his cheeks. They were warm -- maybe a little too hot for my liking -- but I didn't mind; I left my palms there in a cupped position, as if I was holding something. 

My mind raced as my eyes darted in all different directions, my top teeth biting down on my lower lip.

What do I do? Do I say anything? Do I just plant my lips onto his? Is there a specific position that I put myself in?

If it wasn't obvious, it was my first kiss. I was ashamed at the fact of anyone knowing that, since I had been 19-years-old for a few months at the time.

A smirk pulled at the corners of his lips, making him look much more attractive than he had moments before. His eyes stared deeply into mine; it was as if he wasn't even looking at me. He was looking through me, at who I was, at who I had been in my past; it sounds odd just saying it, but I know that's what he was doing.

I finally mustered all of the courage in my being and pulled his face closer to mine. Our lips were centimeters away; I could directly breathe in the air that he exhaled, and vice versa. I slightly puckered my lips and closed my eyes slowly, leaning forward and coming into contact with his mouth. We stood there in the darkness of his cellar, my hands on his cheeks as his hands explored my upper back. After finding a good place to hold, he kept his hands still and gripped my skin gently, pulling me closer to him so that my body was almost as one with his. 

It was one of the most passionate moments of my teenage life. My body trembled in complete ecstacy as the moment wore on, the kiss becoming more and more heated by the second. I was in love. I was in love with his lips, his hair, his eyes, the touch of his skin, the way he kissed me, the way he satisfied me with something so simple, the way he knew how and where to touch me. 

Everything about him turned me on so much more, and I couldn't conceal my excitement any longer. It was impossible to even keep away from him for more than 5 seconds; only moments after we broke contact with each other's lips, I grabbed the collar of his flannel shirt and made sure he was completely up against my body before I kissed him again, the cement walls that surrounded us becoming dimmer as the night grew on. 

Reviews

[Brittany]

It's not bad. You're very descriptive.

In the first sentence I'm not sure creeped is the best word. Makes me think something bad is going to happen.

Why were eyes bloodshot?

Why was sweat dripping down his face?

Otherwise I thought it was a good start. Keep writing.