Hellmouth Portal

 

Slip inside me.

He lights a cigarette. I lie upon his bed. The rain falls like there is no end. The clock strikes three.

Slip inside me.

He stands up. I try to grab him and stop midway in the air. Does it hurt?

“I better go.” he whispers. He turns around and searches my eyes. I shiver. Every molecule of my essence seems aware of the naked man standing in front of me. I blush at this realization. In turn, the right corner of his lips curls up. A mocking smile or not, I do not know. “Do you want me to go?”

Slip inside me.

I nod. He sighs. Like a fallen angel he pleads before me. His hazel eyes half-open, weary of things in the past, he unconsciously grabs handful of his wavy black hair, as if trying to tear it out. However, he does not move. He stands there, watching me wrapped around with nothing but a white blanket. With his cigarette dangling at his curvaceous lips, he searches for the contradiction of my reply that is so apparent in my eyes. I know he knows but still he stands waiting for me to admit that.

But I do want him to go. And I know some part of me wants him to stay. So I look away from his eyes because he needs to go. The bruises on his body that will mark tomorrow will haunt me forever.

“I’m okay.” he convinces me.

I am not capable of tears but I know that he is not okay. I try to feel my heart, for any emotion. I find pleasure. I do not know if that is equivalent to happy. Look for any other emotion. I only find pleasure. The butterflies trail from my left ear, to my neck, down to pleasure. I can feel it tingle.

Slip inside me.

“I’m going.” He whispers as if a warning. He bents down and picked up his shirt from the floor.

“Does it hurt?” I finally spurt out.

“Don’t worry, baby. It’s not something I’d die from.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Touchy, touchy. I remember someone screaming that—”

“Shut up.”

And he shuts up, just like that. I wonder if he cries at night. Unfortunately, I do not. I do want to cry though. I want to cry because I hate this pleasure. So I let the rain do it for me.

Slip inside me.

He stands there, my apple, blowing smoke towards the ceiling with his chest heaving lightly. The butterflies tingle again.

Slip inside me.

The white blanket around me tightens. I shake my head. The right corner of his lips curves up.

I hate him.

Swiftly, I stand up and let the blanket fall into a puddle upon the floor. I push him down on it, tore the cigarette from his hand only to let the glowing ember kiss his lips. He screams, but the rain, my cries, covers the melody of agony.

“Does it hurt?” I whisper.

I throw away the cigarette. Straddling him, I stretch out his arms over his head and pin it on the floor. He laughs. “Of course.”

I ask again. “Do you want to go?”

He kisses me. “Do you want me to?”

I nod.

Then I lick his neck.

Groan. Sigh. Lick. Punch. Burn. Kill. Repeat. Outside, I hear the rain stopping. But I know it will be back in a minute. I need it to.