His grip was tighter than she liked, her hair twisted and toes numb. She wasn’t sure anymore what he wanted but her breath came quick and he shifted to the right. Laura’s teeth were white in the streetlight and from the right angle you couldn’t see the small bruise on her hip from earlier in the day.

His breath was stale again and Laura moved the opposite way, mirrors reversed and sides taken on the bed.

Her lips were bee stung, bright & rosy against his shoulder. She held him, and he lifted her up.

Laura used to be scared, of wasps and spiders and being alone on a Friday night. He was here now, and even though she knew he would go again soon, she held him tight, and used her bee stung lips to trap him closer to her skin.
You taste like honey. Her fingers taut, his fingers warm.
You taste like me.


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