Sexpot part one and part two

[slashmaster]

I had forgotten he owned the keys to my house. I lay on my couch the night afterwards, staring at the blank television screen, dreaming up fantasies of him laying beside me now and raining kisses on my face. It was still difficult to think about, however, while I adjusted to this milestone, this sudden difference in me. I was no longer a virgin. The problem with the change was that it was so abrupt, so sudden, like turning off the light after a day in harsh sunlight, and ghosts of my innocence still flitted around me and I wondered: had he known? And what of him – I thought back on it and could not recall whether or not he was untouched as I was. He had never spoken of it if he was. And how sure he had been, even drunk, guiding me over the bathroom tiles. I only felt different in the sense that the memory was sharp and devastatingly beautiful. My body was indifferent.
And while I thought of these things, I heard the door open, and I looked up to see him stand there in the doorway, flustered and shy, dripping wet from the raging storm outside.
I said nothing and he said nothing, and we were in a perpetual moment of silence and stillness, a sort of twisted paradigm shift, and finally I murmured, “Come in.”
He tread carefully on the carpet, but he still left wet spots where he stepped, and his jacket dripped from where he had hung it.
I forced myself awkwardly into a sitting position, feeling slightly dizzy, curious as to what he wanted by coming here.
He was silent as he came to sit beside me, and he did not touch me, though I saw the tenseness in him, the words bottled on his tongue and building into a swarming mass as they multiplied. He licked his lips uncertainly, unaware as to how I watched him, watched his tongue slide sensually over the skin and vanish again. I trembled, and I was certain that he had felt it, because he glanced over at me with astonished eyes.
The words slipped out before I could restrain them. “What you took from me cannot be replaced.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. I saw the hurt driving down into his heart, and I was instantly ashamed. “I am sorry,” he murmured. “I did not mean to take.”
“You did,” I said. “But I do not regret it.”
He was staring at his hands sadly, turning his palms up and tracing the lines with his fingertips. “I came to apologize and mend the friendship we had.”
“You expected me to accept you as a friend after that?”
He bit his lip and brought his brows together into a frown. “No,” he murmured. “I suppose not. I merely hoped… I do not want to lose you. You are too good to lose.”
“Gabriel, you will never lose me.”
“Is that it, then?” he asked softly, and stood. “I will not return if you do not wish it.” He held out the keys, but I did not move to take them.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
He was bewildered. “I thought…”
I stood with him, took his hand, and he promptly dropped the keys on the floor. They landed with a muted jingle, but we did not look at them. Eyes were locked on eyes, and now we were both atremble. “You thought,” I whispered. “Perhaps we should not think.”
And he pressed his lips to mine, and I did not think at all.

[slashmaster]

His lips were clammy and wet from the storm outside, and they felt cool and numbingly sweet against my tongue. We fumbled blindly for a moment, awed by the sudden fullness of each other, the contrast against our previous drunken kisses. He pawed at me, dragging me down to the couch as a clap of thunder rattled the windows and lightning lit up the sky, invisible to our eyes as we saw nothing but each other. A trembling moan – one of us, I wasn’t sure which. He was mumbling into my mouth… “Lewis, Lewis, I do hate thunder. I always have. I hate thunder.”
And God his tongue was a coil of heat from those frozen lips, scalding my insides with an almost cruel sensuality. The couch cushions were welcome softness against my reeling head; his hands shook against the buttons of my shirt while his thigh was steady against mine and my shirt was open and he was kissing the exposed skin there. My body was reacting in ways I had never realized it could, and panic began to swirl in my mind, twisted and turned into something awkward by my lust for it to continue and never end. I stared at the ceiling and prayed for breath, which only came in shuddering, sporadic bursts. “Gabriel,” I finally managed to work out, and my voice was shrill with the effort. “Gabriel – ohh God… wait.”
The frenzy slowed to a lazy pace, and he slowly, agonizingly, made his way back up to my lips and smiled with a wrenching sincerity, softened at the edges with a deep tenderness. He ran his hands through the hair lying about my temple idly, gazing down into my eyes. His eyes were alight with some inner emotion, or many, so that I could not identify them. He was flushed and trembling as I was, unsure of what he was doing but wanting it more than anything, and he murmured to me, “You are beautiful, Lewis.” And he kissed me and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I love you.”
And the emotion behind his eyes was exposed in all its totality.
My words were lost somewhere beyond my reach, and after a few painstaking moments it occurred to me that I was breathless. Tears bit at the corners of my eyes, and never before had love sounded to lovely and complete.
I was crying into his lips, and he kissed the tears away all through the night.

- Notes

Yeah this is more a romantic bit than anything. There are usually one or two per 'quarter' in Lewis's life. Gabriel has the most - at least like three so far, and then it tapers off as lovers die or leave. I guess. Whatever. Sorry if it's too disgustingly sweet or some crap for you.

[Robin]

Pt. 1 -

"It was still difficult to think about, however, while I adjusted to this milestone, this sudden difference in me."

This is a bit too blunt for Lewis, 'specially since he goes right after this to have a sentence that's the pinnacle of bluntness.

"had he known?"

Lewis doesn't usually ask direct questions, right? I'd probably change it to something like "...and I wondered if he had known." Something like that. Same with the sentence after it, although that works with the setup of it.

"I saw the hurt driving down into his heart"

Sort of an awkward sentence. Maybe something simpler, like "I saw the hurt written on his face" or something. As it is right now it's sort of not really fitting in.

"atremble"

A rather odd word. You've used it before, I think. I know the way the voice is made Lewis is all gung-ho about romanticizing stuff, but this, I'd probably change to something simpler. This thing is all 'agghhh romantic moment' and it needs a simplified version of Lewis's usual voice. Not changing it, persay, just...simplified.

"We fumbled blindly for a moment, awed by the sudden fullness of each other, the contrast against our previous drunken kisses."

This sentence isn't unclear, but it also isn't clear. You aren't looking to be Hemingway here, but you also don't want to muddy the waters any more than you have to. Probably make this sentence a bit more clean-cut.

"And God his tongue was a coil of heat from those frozen lips, scalding my insides with an almost cruel sensuality. "

The 'god' just sort of trips the reader. You don't really need it here. The sentence conveys the same amount of emotion with or without it.

"ohh God"

Should it just be 'oh?' It's a bit more grammatically correct, and it reads the same either way.

"trembling"

Quivering? Shaking? You use tremble in the passage right above it, and there's not that many words between it and the other one. It's best to use a simple synonym if you can.

Buuuut, the end is cool. As always.

[slashmaster]

Thank God for you. =) I'm editing it on my computer now. Thank you so much.