Sunday 11 November 2012

Electroencephalographic.

I'm on the outside, I'm looking in
I can see through you, see your true colors
Cause inside you're ugly, ugly like me
I can see through you, see to the real you
The door is locked and checked twice. He pulls me down and tucks me underneath him, his lips on my eyelashes, his hands pulling my ribcage up against his chest. He holds me there with one arm while his other hand slides down behind my thigh and pulls it out hard, lifting me up further still. He smiles against the bridge of my nose.

I don't know why I spend so much time away, he mutters, not so much to me as to himself, for I still haven't managed to pull him out of his distracted focus in spite of the fact that he's been working from home instead of going downtown to the studio for more than half of this week. He's tired of the endless bickering between Caleb and Loch. He wants to be home more. He's missing me.

Gee, join the club, Benny.

I am forced back down expectedly. I cry out on the way there. He says Shhhh, his lips so soft against my skin. He finds my mouth and covers it with his own. Endless kisses. The best kind. Scuba-Benning, he calls it. If I need to breathe, I'll have to go through him. It's okay though, I can't breathe at all actually. I'm tweaked out on his crushing weight and the sweet brutality of his affections. He is ravenous, wild, stringing me out, balanced dangerously along his whims, facedown and then up again and then down. Up. I fight for traction and find nothing.

I still can't breathe so I scream, just as he pushes me right to the edge and then over. He clamps his hand over my whole face, ratcheting my limbs down even tighter, closer, harder until I buck and claw against him, unable to move an inch anyway and he loves it. He fucking loves it. Abruptly he lets go and I fall back down into the sheets and he comes down again over me, this time prepared to spend a while. He can go like this for hours until I beg him to stop and then he just goes even more slowly.

By the morning I am exhausted and shaking and completely without wits, my skin pink, raw and hot to touch, my smile goofy and endless, my hair so tangled I wonder if I should just keep cutting it until I can comb it through. I stand in the bathroom, looking at the wreck of my reflection, my hands over my mouth when he comes in and pulls me backward against him, his arms coming down around me and crossing over. I'm locked in the Ben-cage now. Such a little animal I am. He grins and tells me he isn't finished yet and if I'm never coming back to the bed then he'll make do with this, and he takes my head in his hand, bending me facedown on the counter. I go up on my tiptoes as he starts over again. By the time he is finished with me again my knees no longer lock and I can't feel anything below my shoulders. I am wimpering and laughing and he is all whispers and grins.

He pulls me into a hot shower, directing the spray against everything that hurts but it doesn't hurt in a bad way. The hot water feels so good. I'm falling asleep so I just put my head down against his chest and let the water drown me until he puts his hand up to shield my face, before turning us away, letting his back take the brunt of the spray.

When I am clean and dry he leads me back to bed and I shake my head. So sleepy. So ridiculously rubbery. No more, please God I have to sleep for an hour or I'm going to be sick and he smiles and we climb back in and he turns me away, pressing his chest against my back, sliding his left arm under my neck and his right hand down around my ribs. We are drifting toward slumber in minutes, content to spend the rest of the morning unconscious but together. Making up for the time that we thought was lost until we found it.

Connecting physically first before we seem to be able to express ourselves emotionally. It's just the way we've always done things.

Just be, he instructs. Take what you want. Take what you need. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, Bridget. I pull his arms in tighter still around me until we are fused in the moment, in my dreams. I tell myself that I won't let him spend so much time away anymore. I tell myself things will be okay now. I tell myself to stop letting my mind race and sleep already.

I never listen. Not at all.