"I've never been this high before." I blurted randomly. My thoughts flowed right out of my mouth, unfiltered. "Is this what my voice sounds like all the time? I sound weird."
Anderly giggled. "You sound the same to me!" She was talking with her mouth full. "And this is the best fucking pizza I've ever had. Like, ever." I laughed at her as she rolled her eyes back in her head and moaned. She took a hit off the joint that was between the fingers of the hand that wasn't holding a greasy, half-eaten slice. Her discarded lacy bra was flung over the arm of the sofa she was lounging on. I couldn't help smiling at her, she really was a whole mood.
At some point I had leaned over and let my head rest on Hex's shoulder, and he put his arm around me. I felt a little rush when he did it, which was weird, because he hugged me all the time and I'd never thought anything of it. I found myself gazing at the silhouette of his profile as he watched TV. Androgynous, fine features and high cheekbones, with skin so smooth it had no business being on someone 11 years my senior. If people didn't already know how old he was, they'd never be able to guess.
He glanced down at me after a while, then back to the TV, and his mouth twitched into a little smirk that only I could see.
Crap. I didn't mean to stare like that.
I was definitely high, and my face was definitely flushed, I was glad the light in the room was so dim. I could hear Anderly snoring lightly, and I realized she had fallen asleep without me noticing. She always passed out after she got wine drunk, and it was kind of funny in its predictability.
Hex shifted a little, and I sat up to free the arm around my shoulders. He re-lit his joint. His face was illuminated by the flame of the lighter, and then the light of the TV, and the billowing smoke from his exhale looked like it was glowing.
"Does your hand hurt again?" He asked, watching me.
"Oh. Yeah, a little." I looked down. I didn't even realize I'd been rubbing it.
"Come here."
I didn't know what he meant, I was already sitting right next to him. He took a long drag on his joint, the lit end flaring in the half dark. He put it back in the ashtray. Then he leaned close, too close, and I was confused right up until he put both hands on the sides of my face and his mouth was mere inches away from mine. He slowly opened his lips, smoke climbing out like tendrils, tilted his head, and exhaled it into my mouth. I breathed it in. What the hell is happening? This was too close, too hot. My brain was whirring in my skull.
Sharing the smoke from his lungs to mine was so fucking erotic, and I didn't know why. I had never felt like this around him before. I blew the smoke out, and his face was still so close, he hadn't pulled away. I felt the high wash over me like a breaking wave. My skin was vibrating again, and those hurricane gray eyes were staring me into oblivion. He was so pretty, and the glowing smoke surrounding him made him look ethereal, like an angel. But I knew him; Nothing could be further from the truth.
I tried to ask: "What are you doing?"
But what came out of my stupid mouth was: "You're so beautiful." Shit.
He smirked again but didn't say anything. His hands slid up to my jaw, and he put the pad of his thumb on my lower lip, on the healing split there. That face, those fucking eyes, I would sell my soul to him any day of the week. My heart was pounding in my throat, my skin was buzzing like a hive of bees. This was the worst idea, I knew that, but my fucking brain must have melted because I didn't do a damn thing to stop it.
We didn't speak, and even though his face was emotionless at that moment, I knew what he wanted. He was looking from my eyes to my lips, asking for permission to kiss me. His lips brushed mine, just barely. I could've asked him to stop right then, and I knew he would have, but I was too far gone. My neurons were lining up and firing in totally new ways like my tangled mind was being untwisted, and I was connecting thoughts in ways I never had before. I could have cried.
When I didn't resist, he kissed me deeper, harder, and his inked hands flowed up the back of my skull, his slender fingers against my scalp. My skin was so sensitive it was like touching a live wire, sparking static shocks everywhere our skin connected. I needed it, I wanted to feel it more.
"Please..." I breathed.
I want to be electrocuted.
He grabbed my hair and pulled me down flat onto the couch cushions, devouring me.
~
We kissed. Hex kissed me. Hex was on top of me, kissing me, and I kissed him back, and I was so freaking high but I wasn't sure if it was the drugs, or if he was the drugs and I was high on him. It felt like both. I felt like an addict.
Being this baked was making me have some weird thoughts (like that one) that would probably mortify me later, but with the added benefit of making me not give a shit right now. This felt too good, and for the first time in years, I felt good, so rational thought took a backseat and I let lust drive.
My hands roamed all over his back, the silky fabric of his robe felt amazing under my tingling palms. He kissed my neck and I just tilted my head back and let him. I felt one of his hands inch under my shirt, palm flat on my stomach, and I'm the biggest idiot because it felt so damn good that I moaned without even trying to hold it back.
He pulled away and looked at me with an expression so carnal it should be illegal. His half-lidded eyes were reddish from the smoke, his pupils blown wide. His kiss-swollen lips curved into that diabolical fucking smirk that just murdered me. This was no angel. He was so terrifying and so sexy that my lungs stopped working for a moment and my breath hitched in my throat.
I changed my mind. I'd give him my soul. He could take it, he could take it all, everything, until I had nothing left.
His lips were on mine again, and my hands were inside his robe, my nails digging lines down his back. He groaned, deep in his throat, and it sent a shockwave of pleasure down my spine and straight to my groin. My head tilted and my lips parted for his tongue like I had zero control over my body, but I knew that was a lie the second I thought it because I fucking wanted it so bad.
But rational thought was whispering from the back of my brain: This is wrong-
And it was maybe, possibly, getting a little too heated. His hand had pushed my shirt all the way up to my neck, and my hands had his robe pulled down around his tattooed shoulders and he was between my legs-
Stop, idiot!
-and he was grinding into me with just the right amount of pressure, and it felt so fucking incredible I wrapped my legs around his hips. I wanted more contact, to be closer. Our bare chests were pressed together already and it wasn't close enough. He ran the hand on my stomach up , over my chest, leaving a trail of vibrations on my bare skin.
Fuck, this feels so good.
He wrapped his fingers around my throat, holding my jaw, and I could feel his sharply pointed nails right against my pulsing jugular. My heart was beating so hard I was sure he could feel it under his fingertips. The thought that he could choose to potentially kill me with just a little applied pressure was exhilarating. (I knew it was a fucked up thought before I was even done thinking it, but apparently I was doing a lot of fucked up shit today.)
He wasn't choking me, but he was holding me down and still as he ravaged my mouth with his. He tasted like red wine and pine smoke and danger. His free hand was still behind my head, tangled in my hair. He pulled back to suck in a breath, and I had to bite down on my lip before I was too loud.
He trailed burning kisses down my jaw to my collarbone. I knew this was escalating, and in the back of my mind I knew it was a bad, bad idea to let it continue. I had a white-knuckle grip on his shoulders.
"Hex..." I gasped his name, quietly, and I felt his teeth scrape against the base of my neck as he smiled.
The grinding was too much, I clamped my eyes shut; my brain was short-circuiting and I was hopelessly hard and so was he, but we had to stop before this went any further and our relationship was damaged beyond repair.
You'll ruin everything!
That thought was enough, because the tiny part of my brain that was still sane hijacked control of my body again.
"H-Hex, wait, I-" I panted, trying to keep my volume low.
He froze immediately and pulled back, breathing hard. He looked at me like he was scared he had hurt me. He had pushed himself up with one hand on the couch next to my ribs, and the agile fingers of his other hand were poised right on the button of my jeans. This had been about one second away from the point of no return.
"What? Are you okay? Do you want to stop?"
That was too close.
"Cosmo?"
"Yeah. Yes, I think we should stop." I was shaking, I felt like my brain was in a blender set to purée.
"Okay. It's okay. We can stop." He let go of my waistband; his shaking fingers had been only about six inches away from both of our now painfully obvious erections. I was frustrated, humiliated, and very fucking confused all at the same time. I covered my burning face with my hands and tried to disappear.
~
I was discovering a lot of new things about myself and about Hex over these last few weeks. Like how I'm way more deeply fucked in the head than I thought, and how Hex was a demon when you got him turned on, but was also really serious about consent.
-And also how we apparently couldn't trust ourselves to get super stoned together without trying to fuck each other.
We learned something new every day.
~
[ My poor Cosmo, that high af/pent up idiot. I love him. Also I can't remember if I wrote how old they were, so here: Cosmo is 24, Anderly is 28, and Hex is 35. Stay tuned for more dumbass shenanigans!]
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