gwaine's writer mind

Lips and a cigarette

You didn’t enjoy that
So I should leave,
She states,
matter of fact.
Her eyes searching
My face
To read a reaction.

It takes a while for me to respond,
My attention lost
In the heave of her breasts
Against the humid air.
Sweat trickles down one mound
To her ribs.

I did enjoy it
My voice cracks,
Detached from my brain.
She shrugs and lights her
compulsory cigarette,
A retreating comfort.

Sex as a concept
Is something
I struggle with.
My mouth forms the words
But they make no sense,
Not even to me.

She doesn’t laugh.
Usually she at least smiles
When I speak.
Not this time,
Instead she ignores me.

Her lips curl
Around the butt, seductively
Encircling it
Like a soft mollusc.
I feel the stirring
Of a hardness again.

She notices and raises an eyebrow comically.
The cigarette leaves her mouth,
Her tongue stroking
The taste off it
And I want to fuck her again.