Balconial Conversations

75 // whispers

I'm smiling quite foolishly hbu?
Is desirous a word idk whatever
it's kind of...tame, i know, but I feel like that's how it should be for now.
***
Cam's hand brushes my jaw, my neck, my shoulder. His lips touch mine again and again in whispering, desirous sweeps. I breath his breaths and my chest feels full and warm and heavy and perfect. As if my heart likes this too.

He rolls onto his side; closer. He smells sweet and musky and very boy. It envelopes me, he envelopes me. He's all I'm thinkingfeelingtastingsmellingsseeing.

...I threw some rocks up at your window... I broke some rocks right through your window...

We both jolt as Imagine Dragons blares through the apartment, or maybe just right by my head... I couldn't say.

"Holy shit," he breathes, staring at me. He's slanted over me, on his side with one hand brushing over and over and over my jaw and his other hand running down the flat of his face.

He reaches past me, over the arm to the end table to pick up the phone there. He presses ignore, even though it's his brother's name displayed, and tosses it onto the coffee table.

He breathes. I breathe. The apartment door opens with a creak and his eyes widen comically.

"Shh," he breathes when my lips quiver with a laugh.

His roommate wanders into the kitchen, humming something classical. Opens the fridge, closes the fridge. My shoulders shake and Cam presses long fingers over my smile. Shh.

The roommate, I don't remember his name, wanders into the bedroom off the hallway, closing the door behind him. I shake Cam's hand off and laugh softly.

He brushes at the flyaways at my temples, distractedly with a soft smile.

"Well... I guess you never got to see season two."