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conflicted thru touch
one last night in rio · 05/14
He lost count of time pulling from memories that didn't involve wasting breath into women who were nameless. Less background of knowledge or what they desired beyond a night of fucking was dropped into pits of unknowns. He couldn't remember the last time that a one on one was not at fault of memorizing the thing a bed mate could do on command or what rough persuading would result in. Stimulation from accents of pain inflicted on a nameless face was lost on him. His quips, the pull to roam free under the helm of dominance was not a need. A want from time to time, yes. He bartered, even reenacted a fantasy that was bar none lain on mutual escape. He found a place, one based on running away from a grounds worth of problems.
Internal at the root, some inescapable, readily there to wrap forearms against his neck. It crushed him in the still of night, killing chances of sleep. Awakened and left to peek upward, life in specks blotted across the high ceiling. Although at her side, behind her, beneath, or defeated curved against her like a spoon, a fair share of peace was fleeting. He held on some evenings, especially then. Arms canvased against her, adorn by the fact that there was a real being, someone who showed him more of herself than expected. More than he deserved because there was nothing he was entitled to, not even her time let alone her body. The space she breathed was sacred in essence.
In the dead of night as the air grew stiff, Rio's humidity hummed. Skin to skin, he found scars. The ones met by a fate in her childhood. He thought about how the moment a bullet pierced flesh, where it grazed or exited, leaving a wound behind. Near death or experiencing it at the hands of someone else. He understood where hers came from. Why it still remained and maybe why there was a haunting to keep her up, similar to his own woes. Different, odd in comparison, who once was an enemy by association, became someone of significance. His fear set deep in core, where he understood the downfall of his habits. Taking advantage or suddenly growing bored, but he wasn't. Not yet at least.
Thoughts of losing out on what had developed and bizarrely manifested to becoming more of someone who just warmed his bed, made him nervous. It always made him nervous. If he pulled back a little at the time, would it lessen the blow? Would he become an awful man for her, pretending to care or listen when sometimes it was a joke wrapped in sarcastic undertones? He couldn't tell if their time was on a short table, running out or there to continue on. Nathan instead tried to reclaim times that breakthroughs happened but he should've been wary.
He should protect himself because people were unpredictable and as the past has written out for him, fickle with a chance of departing. Either by their own volition or of his doing. Trust remained wedged between them, hooking against their freedom to pull ever so closely. The slack continued to tighten, as it shortened and shortened. He was wrapped up in her more than what was admittable to the outside world as it ceased to be their foreground in space that required less tension. Attentive again to the curve of her waist, the silhouette that will remain in his consciousness during times of high stress, was molded beneath rough surface of hand. Lasting there would end when he favored the rawest part of her.
Fingers sought after the scar again, drawing against what raised skin felt like under pads of fingers. Lately he resorted to this gesture when sleep was out of reach. There was someone instead to drain all the measely energy he tried to let go of. She moved not once, nor to react aggressively of his soothing way to make the most sense of their situation. Escaping for a weeks time claimed to throw it all into a perspective he could rely on and hold high hopes for. He, as an example of what there was room to become, disbelieved that all would be all right. It would be safe and he would build for the both of them to feel safe and secure that what was shared on a once shaky foundation, would become sturdy.
He wanted to create a stronghold, an impenetrable line of defense no one else had the force to see a way through. As perception of all that had ever been experienced, including probability of seeing bad ratios to what he grew to cherish at a point, it wouldn't last. So he held her a little closer. Inhaled gently. Thought less what ifs to create what was taking place in the now. They were in a penthouse, one closer to a body of water with its land grained in sand, and people who enjoyed the moment. This was a lesson of doing the same. Actually increasing the idea of faith as it was not a thing. Nathan went blink, losing the fire to carry out any possible way of ruining what currently was the best thing.
Thoughts negative at the bedrock of what was known, folded back to its dark place. His ruin would not fall on her shoulders and shatter when lips carefully landed. Straining not to move further, head rested against the pillow. As attempting to fight another case of being restless, confirmation and sudden acknowledgement steadied his racing heart when he felt his hand being grabbed. Smaller fingers entangled as its purpose would be met and she assisted in dismantling doubt's brooding and smothering presence. This was liberation. Hope at its smallest display. A lasting memory scratching deeply, an unlikely way of being forgotten.