Sabtu, 15 Oktober 2011

Marathons and Parking Garages

your love is a verb

It started, innocently enough, with a day spent watching a Supernatural marathon. It was one of those randomly chosen days when a network decides to air every episode of a given show, and today, they’d chosen Supernatural.

Coincidentally, that day also happened to be one of the rare, blue moon days in which Kandi and Logan’s schedules actually coincided, leaving them both free to spend the day together however they saw fit. Instead of going out for lunch or packing up for a daytrip to the beach, they decided to lounge around his apartment, sprawled along the length of the couch. An afternoon’s worth of comfort food spread out across the coffee table, just within their reach.

“I can’t believe you’ve never watched this show,” Kandi laughed, grabbing the triangular half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the table. “It’s really good.”

She could see the dimples emerge from his cheeks as he grinned. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Though she would’ve loved to have spent the day with her toes in the sand and the salt air tousling her hair into beachy waves, the heat radiating from Logan’s body felt just as perfect.

A couple seasons in, and Kandi found herself staring up at the ceiling, watching the blades of the fan whip around as stuttered giggles spilled from her lips.

“What is it?” he asked as he gave the loose strands from her messy bun a playful tug.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she replied, the remnants of a smirk still imprinted on her lips. She knew he wouldn’t drop it, not with how flushed her cheeks felt.

“Come on, K. What’s so funny?” His finger trailed along her side, eliciting even more giggles.

“Right now? You’re tickling me.”

His expression fell; his brown eyes narrowed in on her, an espresso eyebrow raised slightly.

“Oh okay.” The breath gushed from her lungs. “It’s just…” her eyes met his for a moment before darting nervously away. She’d never felt awkward about this sort of thing before. This whole relationship-boyfriend thing was throwing her for a loop. “I think you would look really hot all badass like Dean Winchester.”

Logan let out an exaggerated scoff as he propped his head up on his arm. “Uh, I’m already plenty badass. Winchester’s got nothing on this.” His fingers tugged at the collar of his t-shirt before letting the material fall back into place.

“Yeah right.” Another set of brown eyes rolled in their sockets. “When you fight off some demons, go to hell, then come back, you’ll know what badass really is.”

Logan mimicked her expression before sinking back into the couch cushion, and the two spent the rest of the afternoon sprawled across the couch, watching television and binging out on junk food.

The following day was a little more interesting.

Around six in the evening, Kandi was lounging on the couch, thumbing through a magazine she’d gotten in the mail. Brown eyes glazed through pages clothes that she would lust over but would never be able to afford.

She heard the key turn in the lock before the door suddenly slammed open. Logan stood in the doorway, a reckless confidence glistening through his familiar features. His jaw was set, and as he strolled closer, she noticed that his jawline was marked with stubbly dark hairs, the closest he could muster to a five o’clock shadow. He narrowed his coffee-ground eyes at her as he leaned over the back of the couch, a single dark eyebrow cocked suggestively as his own smirk adorned his lips.

An artistically-worn leather jacket hung over his frame, the soft white cotton of one of his many v-necked tee-shirts peeking out from beneath the heavy material.

With the way he had swaggered over to her, it took all that she had not to laugh.

It wasn’t like Logan was awkward in his day-to-day life, because he was anything but. She just wasn’t accustomed to the devil-may-care attitude that he had chosen to feign for the day; Logan’s confidence was more swag-based than rebellion. But she couldn’t say that she had any complaints.

She was right; he did look hot as a badass.

The urgency in his posture returned as soon as her eyes met his, his stare scanning the room for any possible threat.

“Hate to put a damper on your evening, honey, but I’ve gotta get you out of this apartment.” His words weren’t exactly in-character, but they rolled off of his tongue like molasses, the remnants of the southern drawl he’d spent years in acting classes trying to hide pulling at every vowel.

Kandi was a sucker for his southern accent.

It was obvious that he hadn’t formulated a clear backstory, or any storyline, for that matter. After all, he was an actor, not a screenwriter, but she did appreciate the effort.

For a quick instance, her expression mirrored his exaggerated anxiety, but the moment was lost as soon as her phone vibrated loudly against the coffee table.

A brief glance confirmed that it was her roommate, probably checking in on her since she hadn’t dropped by the apartment in a couple days. Kandi flicked her thumb along the screen to unlock it, revealing a simple text that read “are you staying at the guys’ tonight?”.

Before she had a chance to reply, Logan snatched the phone from her grasp, and she could see in his eyes that he was toying with the notion of chucking it across the room. He decided against it, instead thrusting it into the back pocket of his jeans.

“In my line of work, you can’t trust anyone,” he muttered as though it was a worthy explanation. “That friend of yours could be possessed for all we know.”

Kandi had to stare at her chipped nail polish job in order to keep herself from automatically rolling her eyes.

Just go with it.

She rose to her feet, her gaze trained on him expectantly, and he gripped her arm in response, pulling her towards the door so quickly that she almost stumbled over her own feet trying to keep up with his pace.

Their footfalls echoed through the cramped stairwell, she in her yoga pants and tank top and he in his new Winchester costume. It was the unexpected rush that sent chills down her spine and kept her clinging to the sleeve of his jacket, anxious to find out what exactly he had in mind.

They made their way into the small lobby, pass rows of gold-toned P.O. boxes and through the steel-framed glass doors, out onto the sidewalk. The sun was just beginning to make its way behind the towering buildings around them, leaving the sky an array of lavender and creamsicle orange.

People strolled past them on the street as Logan led her down the block. His expression never broke from its set defiance, brows furrowed as he stared at the stretch of pavement ahead. He didn’t slow down until they reached the entrance of the parking garage two blocks down. Though it wasn’t quite dark yet, the fluorescent lights overhead still flickered on, giving the gray urban landscape an icy blue glow. Logan’s biker boots scuffed against the concrete as his chocolate eyes scanned the rows of vehicles for his own: a stealthy black Range Rover parked in the corner of the first level.

His hand instinctively reached into the pocket of his jacket, fishing out his car keys before his thumb pressed into the unlock button, eliciting a shift honk from the hulking SUV.

“Where are we going?” Kandi asked, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes, trying her best to muster up the airs of a damsel-in-distress.

This may have been Logan’s chosen profession, but she wasn’t exactly a novice at the performing arts herself.

“You’ll see,” he replied as he pulled the back door open, the sleek paint shimmering in the light. His gaze seemed to smolder in the lowlights, the warm glow from the car’s interior illuminating the faint freckles across the bridge of his nose. For a moment, his exterior broke down, a lopsided grin bringing out his dimples just before he gnawed at his lower lip. His eyes locked on the toes of his boots as he motioned her inside.

Though it was obnoxiously bulky, there was something about Logan’s car that felt homey to Kandi as her eyes did a once-over of her new surroundings. So many summer nights spent cruising the streets of LA, blasting music from the speakers that made her heart skip a beat every time the bass knocked. Pulling into the drive-thru at Taco Bell because it was one of the few cheap places that stayed open late, grabbing their usual order of cruchwrap supremes and the biggest Mountain Dew on the menu. It was the summer when every radio station played Taylor Swift’s “Our Song” so often that it wasn’t long before they knew every single word and had broken down to shouting the lyrics out with the tinted windows rolled all the way down, the wind tangling her mess of brunette waves.

Her fond memories were interrupted as she watched her boyfriend slid into the backseat beside her, his gaze focused on the windshield, the wall of cement in front of them.

The second hardest part about sex in a car is getting your clothes off.

There was a moment somewhere in between when Logan was struggling with his belt and Kandi was trying to kick off her pants when the roles faded away, if only for that instant. She was still the girl that had full-length commentary whenever they went to the movies, and he was still the boy that beatboxed to himself while microwaving Easy Mac. There was beauty in the awkwardness, reassurance in the fact that they weren’t perfect little sex fiends.

Logan shifted back into his role with ease, his hands clamped around her upper arms like vise-grips as her toes left prints across the opposite window. She was preoccupied, trying to soak in this uncovered side of him. Her eyes washed along the planes of his body, everything displayed in a new light despite how his bare skin felt so familiar against hers.

Though his SUV was anything but small, there still wasn’t adequate space in the backseat, each movement cramped as they tried to position themselves in the most comfortable way along the beige interior, leather clinging to damp skin with each shift.

His lips crashed into hers with more force than she was used to, and her own parted almost instantly, allowing the tip of his tongue to rake along the roof of her mouth. For once, she didn’t try to rob him of control, blinded the raw passion of his every movement. Her fingers ran through his hair, short nails digging into his scalp as he deepened the kiss, building more tension in her muscles as she tried to grab hold of him. The new sensation of his stubble against her chin was just the right amount of pain and foreignness.

He broke away unexpectedly, leaving her craving more as his lips drifted down to her neck, sucking hard so hard at the delicate skin above her pulse that she knew she’d be branded with bruises the next morning. She couldn’t get frustrated with him because it felt so good, having him at his roughest. She’d always suspected that he was holding back on her. Soon the sharp bites and drags settled along her collarbone, accompanied by the contrasting subtlety of his thumb circling her breast.

She was still playing in his hair, twirling the longer locks around her middle finger as the tug from his lips grew softer, traversed the stretch of skin down the middle of her chest. The flutter of his thick eyelashes left butterfly kisses in its wake as his grip moved from her arms to her waist. Lingering just below her navel was the now-soft pressure of his lips, his lower lip slowly dragging upwards against her skin.

With her eyes closed, it proved difficult for her to keep her body steady as she felt the warmth of his breath slid further downward from her bellybutton, and her thighs quivered as his tongue flicked along the crease of her pelvis. His lips tugged at the thin skin stretched across her hipbone, his brown eyes gazing upward at her, still smirking at her even though his lips were busy.

His smugness got under her skin, but at that moment, she didn’t really care. She’d let him win if only he would quit teasing her, but it was all a necessary part of the game.

He pulled himself back up to face her, and she rose up to kiss him, her teeth nibbling at his bottom lip before easing her tongue into his mouth, mimicking the movements he’d practiced on her but adding her own twist. Her kiss wasn’t as rough and raw, more slow-burning and lingering, her hands gripping his chest as he hovered above her.

She became so lost in her own moves that she almost didn’t notice one of his hands glide along the length of her stomach, slowing to a stop between her thighs. His tongue didn’t slow as his fingers trailed below, though as the friction and speed increased, Kandi’s mouth could only gape open while his tongue moved in sync with his hands until she became nothing but putty beneath him. Her hips rocked against his palm, her mouth formed a string of consonants in his, but his rhythm didn’t slow.

Eventually, Logan readjusted himself, shifting his weight from his palms to his forearms, his lips still melting into hers. His hips cradled against hers as he tried to build his rhythm back up, starting slowly at first, letting himself slide against her because he knew that was what drove her insane, and she voiced it, moaning muffled vowels in his mouth. Her hands were gripping at his shoulders, his back, his ass, any stretch of skin that she could sink her coral-colored nails into as her hips thrashed against his. His movements were more controlled, more steady, and after awhile, hers slowed to meet his pace, though she still met each of his thrusts with more force, her body begging him for more, forming the words that her lips couldn’t.

It wasn’t long before he obliged, letting the tip of his erection settle at her base, a silent warning as her nails dug deeper into his flesh to prepare herself. She repositioned her legs around his waist, her knees rubbing into his sides as he gave that first real thrust. Kandi swore in his mouth, Logan groaned in hers. As he thrust faster, each motion a little rougher and jerkier than the previous, his lips wandered from hers, his mouth hanging open like a fish out of water as he struggled for air.

Sweat began to pool in the small space between their bodies, and Logan began to lose his rhythm as she tightened around him. Between labored breaths, he could her her speak, but he couldn’t quite make out the words until they were raspy in his ear.

“Lean back,” she whispered, giving his shoulder a slight nudge.

His back pressed against the opposite door, the curve of the console a little painful, but his body was too flooded with endorphins to care. His damp, matted hair left smudges against the window as he let his head tilt back. He let his eyes fall closed as she climbed on top of him, her finger running along the underside of his cock before lowering herself down on him. It was instant warmth, he could feel her convulse around him in waves as her hands gripped his shoulders for leverage. Her hips bucked up and down along the length of his cock, faster and harder with each push. He didn’t have to tell her to fuck faster or take him deeper, she could tell from the way that his fingers raked along her ribcage, the way he’d lost the ability to form coherent words, just a rambling of vowels in lazy Texan drawl.

His hands clasped the back of her thighs, his fingers trailing along the soft flesh before inching upwards to grip her ass, to push her hips down harder against his as he felt himself reach the edge.

Even though he wasn’t supposed to be himself, he didn’t have to tell her to call his name when she came, her own southern drawl dragging out the last vowel for what felt like forever. Logan could feel his lips moving, hear his own voice uttering the lord’s name in vain alongside hers, but he didn’t feel like he was saying anything. The next minute, his abs were trembling as he came, every muscle in his body clenching then releasing as she rode him through it, her hips rotating around his dick as the air gushed from his lungs in one last rush.

Kandi collapsed onto him, her face buried in his shoulder as he ran his fingers through her tousled hair and down her back, eventually clasping her tighter against him as the car became filled with their slowed breathing. Neither of them really felt like moving, and he could feel her chin nestle into his chest, the tip of her nose brushing against his neck in a half-hearted Eskimo kiss.

The hardest thing about having sex in a car is getting your clothes back on, and it wasn’t long before the two stretched out uncomfortably along the length of the backseat, drifting to sleep in each other’s arms.

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