Here's a ridiculously long post of some of the pictures from my weheartit. Cross-posted to my journal. :)
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Prompt #2 Something New
I still have episodes. There are still moments when my vision goes blurry and I can't hear anything but her voice, her breathing. I know when it's the Isabel of present and when it's Isabel of the past. During the episodes her voice is lightly coated with an accent and she's telling me things that I don't always understand.
When I come to, she's still here with me brushing the hair out of my eyes and cooing soothingly into my ears. I'm afraid of her and pathetically in love with her. My heart expands and I want to lay in her arms for our entire lives, with her cool hand on my forehead. I realize that her speech suggests a different time and place and I can differentiate between the two of them more easily. It's like coming in and out of dreams and I'm never sure whether I want in or out anymore.
It's all so new.
So incredibly different from anything else I've ever been through. It's a jumbled mess of then and now, us and whoever we were before. I get headaches sometimes, just thinking about it all. She's gentle with me. She goes easy. Her memories are more fluid than mine but she doesn't push them on me. Instead, she plays her guitar, coaxing me into another dream and showing me who we are together.
I think about the past that's solid and unquestionably real. The past of three months ago and I'm riddled with guilt. I can't comprehend how I ever fucked any woman who wasn't Isabel. My heart thumps madly in my chest and I realize that this is it. I have to marry this girl because I'll never be able to fuck anyone who isn't her ever again. I imagine myself a dickless thing, it having fallen off from disuse. Jon's going to call me a pussy and maybe he's right because I don't really give a shit if I ever leave this bed again.
New, new, new, new. I've never had a girlfriend.
I realize this when we're lying in bed and I turn my head to see her tangled brown hair, covering her face. "Mm," she moans, stubbornly holding onto sleep while I try to pry my arm out from under her head. She's drooled on me and the sheets are a mess around her, tangled around her torso and legs.
When my arm is free I pull the blankets back from her skin, slowly and softly, trying not to wake her. She turns, throwing her arm over her eyes. I watch her chest rise and fall with her steady breathing and I'm sure that she's only pretending to sleep now. She lets me stroke her collarbone, the tips of her breasts, her stomach and then lower, my fingertips skimming lightly over the top of her sex. Back and forth, back and forth, tickling her.
Isabel giggles and I grin. Satisfied.
"I win," I tell her, ducking my head to touch my lips to her neck. I open my mouth and slide my tongue along her skin. I'm in heaven and then she wriggles closer to me, turning in my arms and snaking her leg between both of mine. Her thigh rubs me in the most angelic way. She hasn't done it on purpose but I close my eyes and realize that this is heaven.
Isabel gasps. She's greener than any girl I've ever slept with and the sound is enough to make me shiver. With her it's like nothing's ever been done before because to her, it hasn't. No one's done these things to her, even the simplest caress is an awakening. I'm the first and I've placed her on a pedestal. She's soft and green and still naive and meek. I want to protect her but I realize that it's stupid because she's the one who's saving me. Again and again and again.
"You always win," she says, tangling her hands in my hair and laughing shakily. "When are you going to let me win," she asks. I've thrown the blankets away from myself as well by now and I'm shuffling onto my knees, kneeling above her and opening her legs with my palm warm on her thigh.
"You win. You win," I whisper and my voice sounds hoarse. Isabel's eyes are wide and dark on mine and we both know what I'm saying.
PS Better late and all that jazz, right?