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Automatic Flowers

…he loves me. he loves me not. he loves me…

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two petals fall

you know completely the taste of sin melting sweet in your mouth like chocolate

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"Darren, phone for you."

I glared at the wall, curled up on my bed.

"I'm not here," I growled.

"It's Steve."

I clenched my eyes shut, curling up into a tighter ball. The poor pillow I was hugging twisted in my arms.

"I don't want to talk to him."

There was a slight pause. Then I felt a sudden pressure just below me, the bed sinking a little as my mother sat down beside me. Her hand rested softly on my elbow, warm and reassuring.

"Honey…" she said softly.

I didn't move.

"Have you and Steve had a fight?"

I tried to turn away further, trying to bury my face into the bed. It didn't work though.

"…you know, he was trying to call you all of last night. It sounds like he's really sorry for whatever it is he did."

"No he's not," I mumbled.

Another pause. She gave me a pat on my arm and stood up.

"I'll tell him you're still not feeling well, then."

Then she left the room, softly closing the door behind her.

…trying to call you all of last night…

I sat up slowly.

…it sounds like he's really sorry…

What if… did that mean…?

I jumped from the bed and ripped my door open.

"Mum!" I cried. "Don't hang up!"

At the foot of the stairs, I saw her lookup, the phone at her ear. She smiled.

"Oh, look, here he is, Steve," she said into the phone. "Hang on a second, he's coming down the stairs…"

I leaped down the stairs, taking them two at a time, then landed at a skidding halt next to the little table that held the telephone. With another smile, my mum handed the earpiece over.

"Steve…!" I cried. Beside me, Mum gave me a swift pat on my shoulder then bustled off to do whatever it is mums do on Saturdays.

"Hey Darren…"

"Um, about yesterday-"

"Never mind about that," he said, cutting me off almost sharply. I paused, biting my tongue. "Can you… can you come over to my place?"

"What, now?"

"Yeah."

"Um… let me check…" Covering the mouthpiece, I leaned back. "Mum, can I go over to Steve's?" I called.

"Have you done all your homework?" Her voice called from somewhere in the house. I wasn't entirely sure where she was calling from.

"Yes?" I called back, hoping she didn't notice the uncertainty in my voice. In all honesty, I'd pretty much forgotten what homework I'd been given.

"All right, you can go."

"Yes!" I cried, then turned back to the phone. "She said yes!"

"Oh, good," came Steve's distant voice. "I'll see you in twenty?"

"Okay, sure!" I said – but the soft beeping told me he had already hung up.

Not feeling in the least discouraged by that, I quickly hung up, ran up the stairs and got changed out of my pyjamas. Changing took me moments. It took me even less time to bolt once more down the stairs, say a quick goodbye to Mum, through the door, then down the street. In fact, I walked so quickly to get to Steve's that I was ten minutes early.

Puffing, I knocked on the door. I didn't have to wait very long. The door opened only a few seconds later, as if the opener had been standing behind it just waiting for the knock to happen.

Steve stared at me.

I smiled slightly.

He smiled back.

Then he reached forward, grabbed my wrist, dragged me inside, and shut the door.

All in one go.

There were no words said. It was as if he didn't care for words. Not that I minded – as soon as he shut the door, he pushed me up against the wooden surface –

And pressed a kiss onto my lips.

It was a fiery kiss, a bruising one, a melting one.

It was perfect.

My knees were starting to collapse on me. I thought he was about to deepen the kiss but he instead broke away, taking a step back and lightly licking his lips. I would have fallen forward if it weren't for Steve's firm grip on my wrist.

Still not saying a thing, Steve turned around and began walking me up towards the stairs.

"Where are we going?" I asked, slightly warily. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes strangely serious.

"To my room."

"Why?"

"I… want to try some things."

I could barely hide that sudden excited feeling that burst through my chest.

Reaching his room, Steve closed the door behind him until he heard a satisfying click. I looked at him questioningly. He shrugged.

"I put a lock on it after the last time she walked in on us," he stated simply, then pushed me onto the bed.

I fell back, and before I knew what was happening, he had climbed on top of me and was kissing me again.

Forget that last kiss at the door.

This one was perfect.

It was rough, hard, making my mouth hurt, but all the same, it felt… wonderful. There it was, that tongue I was getting so accustomed to, sneaking in past my now lax defences and making its way around my mouth. Tentatively, I let my own tongue do the same – it crept a little forward, jolted back when it made contact with Steve's – and then gathered courage and ploughed ahead. I creaked my eyes open slightly to see Steve's crinkled slightly in a smile.

Once more, he broke away from me, a line of saliva pulling away from our gasping mouths. With a devious smile, however, he leaned forward once more and placed a small kiss on my neck – then another – then another.

And then, the strangest sensation of all – a nibble.

I flinched, but Steve's hand reassured me, slipping under my shirt and resting just on my ribcage.

"It's all right," he whispered, leaning back slightly to look me in the eye. His were twinkling. "I won't hurt you."

And then he descended upon me with another kiss, another nip.

He didn't hurt me – far from it.

I was floating…

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A.N Yay for short and concise.

I feel like doing an emotionless piece, so this story is going to be mostly emotionless. More… flat… and slightly more physical, I guess you could say… Hrmmm…

dfsw d: Steve is about twelve and Darren is around eleven. Oh, they are so young, and yet already so horny… Le sigh. Then again, I was pretty dirty minded at that age, too, so wouldn't boys be more so? Hehe. XD

Thanks for reading! Next chapter will arrive eventually – I am being overloaded with assessments at the moment, so I'm fitting in all my writing during Maths classes and at midnight. Not good for poor Freaky's health. Or maths grades, for that matter…

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