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You’re a thief, plain and simple. There’s no other explanation.
How else do you do it?
How are you so unaware? The effect you have on me? The way I lose all rational thought around you?
You’re laughing right now, either at something I said or something I did. I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention. All I’m listening to is you; the sound of your deep laughter, the way your shoulders shake, your cute, reddening face, the tears forming in your eyes, the little cough you do to calm yourself down.
You look to me, fingers ruffling my hair. It feels nice. Your eyes sparkle with mirth, crinkling at the edges from the smile on your face. Idiot, you call me, in between your small chuckles.
I am an idiot. Why else would I be here— completely enraptured by you?
My body starts to move, either on its own or by the little shred of will I have left. Your hand is still in my hair. Keep it there. It needs you. I need you— your warmth. Your breath hitches. Eyes widen.
This time, I’m stealing something back.
Soft.
That’s what your lips are.
Soft and warm against me.
It’s now I realize I have no tolerance; I’m drunk from the second my lips touch yours. Your small body stiffens before I feel it relax with mine. Hands tighten in my hair, pulling on my scalp in the best of ways. I love it. Don’t stop.
Blond strands tickle my face, your breath ghosts over my cheek. Our chests are together now, my heart beating in tandem with yours. Your fidgety hands continue their path, messing up my hair. My hands, glued to the mesmerizing expanse of skin on your back, smooth and silky under my calloused fingers. Trailing up your beautiful spine, you let out a tiny whimper into my mouth in response. I instantly drink it up.
Somehow, we manage to part. Your breaths come out as shaky, mirroring my own. My hands are still on your back while yours loosen from my hair. Wiping your mouth, you turn away. The tips of your ears are red. I feel the slap on my shoulder, but there’s no anger in it. You’re mumbling something about me being a jerk and a first kiss. I let out an awkward laugh, my face burning. I can’t find it in myself to say it.
It was my first, too.
I pull away, my hands leaving from their place on your exposed skin. I start to get up. Maybe I was going to leave, apologize, anything to dispel the tense atmosphere now encasing us. I probably messed up. I definitely messed up. I always do. If I run now, I won’t have to deal with it— with anything. I’m sorry. You didn’t feel that way, I tell myself. You were just going with the flow.
That’s what I thought until your hand grabbed mine.
So effortlessly, you pull me back, back into another stolen kiss. For once, you’re the one who catches me by surprise. All excuses flee my mind.
When it comes to you, I’m helpless, and I’m quickly beginning to accept it.
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I might be too far gone.
With every touch, every caress, every little gasp that escapes from your pretty lips, I lose myself more and more.
We’re outside; the bedroll's under you. Usually, the air would chill me, be uncomfortable on my bare skin. I’m not cold, though, far from it.
I push into you. Your eyelids flutter, head rolling back, blond hair becoming dishevelled around you, back arching gorgeously. One hand grips the bedroll, twisting the thin fabric between thin fingers. Your moans come out low, deep, almost inaudible, but when you breathe them next to my ear, it cuts straight through, shaking me to my core. I groan at the very sound.
I’m crazy. About you. Everything about you. The way your hand grasps my bicep, squeezing but not daring to leave red trails behind by your fingernails— even now, you don’t want to hurt me. The way you muffle your moans in the crook of my neck as if you’re scared someone will hear— hear us out here, in our little world; you certainly have more shame than I. The way your hand gently travels across my face, down my chest, handling me as if I’m deserving of such delicacy, such tenderness, my touches harshly contrasting yours in their neediness and want. And Gods, the look you gift me when I thrust harder, deeper into you, a look equally sweet and madly erotic.
And it’s all for me. Only for me.
I’m selfish, frustratingly so. But you don’t seem to care. You continue to indulge me, your earnest body matching the fierceness of mine. You won’t break, I know that. I’m just afraid— afraid that I will. But I’m more afraid that the thought is not unwelcome. If it’s you, you can shatter me, take everything from me. You’re a thief, after all— a thief I want to fall victim to.
Suddenly, hands grasp my face, damp with sweat, deceivingly strong arms slowly pulling me down. I halt my movements, an inexplicable fear starting to rise within me. Your gentle touches scare me more than anything. I almost wish you would hurt me, the way I’ve hurt you in the past. I wish you would push me away, send me off the edge of a cliff, tumbling towards the cold ocean.
But you don’t.
Instead, you look at me. Into me. In a way no one has ever looked at me. Your gaze is sure, firm, capable of dismantling the mess of emotions in my head. Nimble fingers trace along my jaw, carefully dusting over my cheek as if they were counting every freckle on my face.
I can’t speak. My voice won’t come out. You guide my face closer to yours, and I follow.
The kiss is too gentle, too sweet, too honest. I feel my heart clutch painfully. You don’t take anything, instead, you give— everything of yourself into the kiss. You’re too kind for someone like me, but I take it anyway.
And with that, I finally give up.
I collapse in your secure arms, drowning in golden hair and golden eyes, in flushed skin and heavy breathing, in the softness of your neck against my feverish lips, in between creamy thighs.
Who am I right now? Childe? Tartaglia? I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m the one you’re holding in your arms. I'm me.
You stole my time, my attention, my thoughts, my soul, and now my heart. You didn’t even try. I could only manage to steal a kiss. I have nothing else but me. If you want, that’s yours to take as well. I’m yours.
Steal me.