Devin
Over theyears,I had often seen Kylie stretch out along the couch in ourapartment. Leisurely and comfortably with her hands and feet pointed towardeither end, elongating her body in a way that could have been described asfeline elegance. It was an artform, or a ballet, even.
Every single time, I would watch her and wish I could do more thanjustwatch. An act of voyeurism and lust. I always wanted to ease myselfover her, slide my hand under her shirt and lay claim to her mouth withmine—and then I’d shake those thoughts away, reminding myself that we werefriends.Just friends.
But on that Thursday night, in the apartment we both called home,I had been given permission.
I walked forward, forgetting entirely about meatloaf, the past,and performance anxiety. I crouched down to the floor, placed one hand on herstomach and allowed my pinky to brush ever-so slightly against the smooth, tautskin above her waistband. Her lips parted, a soft whine escaped her throat atthe bold touch to the little strip of exposed skin, and how fucking lucky wasI, to draw a noise like that out of her.
Her eyes met mine,all ofthosemulti-faceted blues. They took on a different mood, one I’d never had thepleasure of witnessing before.
“Have I ever told you how beautiful your eyes are?” I asked her,cocking my head to take them in as she laid there.
“No,” she whispered.
“They were the first thing I really noticed—and, I think,loved—about you. They’re full of so much color, so many shades of blue, thatthe rest of the world feels dull when I’m without them for too long,” I said,talking in a graveled tone. “I wrote a song about them. Perhaps you know it …‘Edge of a Blue Existence.’”
Her eyes turned to kaleidoscopes filled with sapphires and topaz,as they filled with tears of recognition. “Oh God, Devin …”
“’Not quite there, not quite here/The distance is stifling, whilebeing so near/On the edge of a blue existence/But as long as I’m here, as longas you’re here/I’d keep from falling, I’d keep myself stalling/To catch aglimpse, of that blue existence.’” I sang in whispers, afraid, as though shehad never heard me sing before. And in a way, it was as though she hadn’t.Because now, she was listening with new ears, and with an understanding of whatthe words truly meant.
“I am … the most oblivious person on the fucking planet,” shesaid, the tears spilling over her cheeks and into the upholstery of the couch.
I shook my head. “You shouldn’t have been made to guess.”
Her cheeks deepened in color and my thumb, resting on her stomach,hooked underneath her skintight tank-top. “You’ve driven me insane, wearingthese things around here,” I said, edging closer to her mouth. My thumb strokedthe sensitive skin, then slid higher, pulling the shirt up with it. “Such afucking little tease.”
“Jesus, Devin,” she gasped and shut her eyes to my touch. Igroaned from somewhere deeper within me, somewhere desperate and primitive, asI leaned closer.
“Say that again,” I whispered, a thread of breath between her lipsand mine.
“Jesus,” she whispered with a playful smile, and I grinned.
“Try again,” I chuckled.
Her eyes opened, and she smiled as she said, “Devin.”
And my name was given new meaning.
With that final push of affection, my lips touched hers for thefirst time, and my mind spiraled. Dizzy with unexpected sensation andemotion.
I never knew that something as simple as a kiss could meananything. Every pair of lips I had kissed before, every woman that had laidbeneath my hand … They had all felt similar, damn near identical to each other.Soft skin, softer lips. Kissing was kissing, and none of it ever meant afucking thing. A means to an anticlimactic end.
But Kylie’s lips, Kylie’s body. Kylie’s breath, and Kylie’s littlegasps and whines …This. This was my first kiss. The others had onlybeenpracticeto ensure that this one would be perfectbeyond all comprehension. To ensure that when my tongue passed from my mouthand into hers, to taste her for the first time, I would know without areasonable doubt that I was stoking a flame that would never die down, wouldnever burn out. I knew, with every reverberation of a moan, that this wasit.
She was mine, and I was hers.
And it meant everything.
My hand pushed further up her shirt, gliding over paper-smoothskin and stopping just below her breast. My fingers dared to only whisperlightly over the warm curvature. It was uncharted territory, and I silentlywaited for permission to proceed. To know once and for all if she was as softand perfect as she looked.
“No,” she said against my lips, breaking the kiss I never wantedto end, and my confidence tanked.
“What?” I asked, opening my eyes and wondering frantically what Ihad done wrong.
Kylie took my hand in hers, interlacing our fingers, and pushed itlower, until my pinky finger rested over the waistband of the shorts she woreto bed. “Here,” she whispered against my mouth, but my confidence still wasn’tfinding the boost it needed.
“You go straight for the gold, huh?” I laughed uneasily, slowlyrunning my fingertips over the fabric. Slipping them under just enough to findthat she wasn’t wearing any panties. To feel her smooth, shaven skin. Buzzingwith excitement and panting, I pressed my forehead to hers. “Holy fuck.”
