Resurrection

His hands moved up my waist beneath my sweater as I sensed the warm tugging on my earlobe, sending a tingle down the side of my neck. I shut my eyes, exhaling slowly, nearly giving in to the primal groans and the sounds of him breathing over my skin. Suddenly I felt a sharp pop and a ringing crescendo in my right ear. I clutched it instinctively, yelling, "What the hell??" shoving him off of me, assessing the damage.

I rubbed the pain out cautiously as the noise subsided. My attention returned to him leaning back against the couch, arms crossed over his chest, dark eyes avoiding my studying gaze. “What’s that face for?” He tilted his head to the side, uneasy with the question. “You pushed me off of you.” Suddenly I realized I’d been less than tactful in my reaction. If someone had been that dramatic with me over a simple accident I would have stormed out and told them to get over themselves.

In these moments of having committed a reasonable faux pas, it was fairly easy to warm the other one up. Whenever he was cross with me I could grin and play with him, tease him, show him that my intentions were always good and I never meant any harm. Then his stony face would crack a smile he would melt into me. It’s like toying with a scorpion, something that so easily could hurt you if you didn’t understand it's nature. Luckily I was quite familiar, and he was just as equipped to handle me when he wanted to be.

It was time to work the magic once again, but I knew getting swerved like that was no easy damage. He fell limp into the cushion as I approached, eyes closed, mumbling, “I’m dead,” in protest. I inched closer to his face. “Oh you’re dead, huh? Luckily I have a resurrection spell, like Imhotep in The Mummy. I’ll summon you back from the underworld.” He shook his head in objection, suggesting that the underworld was where he preferred to stay. I couldn’t help but chuckle. I pressed my lips onto his and it, indeed, felt like a dead person. Resurrecting him would not be so easy this time. I tried to tease with my tongue, but of course dead people can’t French. I held his face in my hands and continued to run my lips over him softly as if it was my last chance to convince him to return to the land of the living. Even though the situation wasn't ideal, I liked having him still like this for a moment if only to show how much I adored him in my own weird way. My eyes opened slightly and I saw his cheeks pulled back into a grin as he rolled into me.

“Aha!” I beamed, “You broke character.”

Photo Credit: Becca Tapert