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o x y g e n

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Gentle touches of his fingertips against her own are burning. She feels them too much. His hands are hot. Or maybe hers are just so cold. Or maybe both.

At this moment everything feels too much. She shuts her eyes to part herself from the darkness of the room, to part herself from the shadows, from everything but the physical feelings. They burn, they hurt, they break her. In this there is the liberation she wants so badly. She needs it.

The warm breath just next to her ear, the painfully gentle kiss on her jaw line, it sends shivers down her spine. Her breaths are shallow, she tries to inhale the air despite the invisible collar she always feels around her neck, always too tight, always taking her breath away. Only at times like this, only the bittersweet pleasure brings her ounces of relief. This delicate suffering allows her to get what she needs the most.

It’s her oxygen.

A kiss. She kisses back just a little bit, just enough to let him know to keep going. She gladly gives away all control she could have. She lies down completely vulnerable and this is just right, this is just like the things should be. She wants to be claimed. She wants to be claimed so she wouldn’t have to worry about anything in the world but belonging to the one she loves, the one who is touching her so gently right now, but she feels as if she was made of such a thin glass that even these gentle touches may break her, and in fact she hopes they will, she wants him to break her, destroy her, because there is something so uplifting in this thought...

She has never been free. Well, maybe long time ago, when she was still a kid. But for a very long time she has not be free and it feels like she already became one with her chains. To save her means to destroy her.

“Don’t cry,” she barely hears these words, merely a whisper, because her heart is pounding so loudly in her ears. She hates this sound, rhythmical, disgusting, a proof of being alive. She doesn’t care if she’s alive.

He kisses her cheeks trying to kiss away her tears. Then he kisses her lips and this time she responds more eagerly, desperately trying to kiss him back as if these messy, greedy touches of lips and tongues were her air this time. As if she was underwater, trying to get oxygen from him.

After all, she’s been always claiming to be constantly drowning.

She gasps at the touch of his fingers, first careful then gradually growing more rapid. She opens her eyes; she’s able to see way too many details for her liking as her eyes have already accustomed themselves to the darkness. The figure above her watches her carefully, the streetlight reflecting in his eyes flickering every now and then, but there is also something more in the way he looks at her, something she does not quite recognize and she’s not sure if she should like it or not, or maybe she should be scared like she usually is of everything...

Everything that isn’t him.

He gently brushes her hair from her face before slowly kissing her again, his palms against her cheeks. She closes her eyes again, finally able to sink down completely in this sensation, finally being shattered into complete nothingness, even if just for minutes, even if just for now. She is finally at peace.