The sculptor; part 13

So this well proportioned sculptor with his beautiful face and long wavy hair stands in the shower, the water streams over his smooth skin and -

although he tries to tame it by holding his hand in front of his penis, pushing it aside - his lust clearly visible.

He holds out his hand. To me.

"Come here, baby. Come join me."

The candles in the dark bathroom, the fog from the running warm water. He even put on some music. The rhythm from Chris & Cosey doesn't even surprize me.

 It's never like this when I'm not with you

I feel so overwhelmed by all this. Dizzy. He is doing this for me, little Hálwen.
As if in trance I walk to him.

He breathes out loud when he takes me in his arms, like he has been holding his breath all this time.

His warm, wet body feels amazing. I stand on my toes to taste his lips with my tongue.

To drink from his mouth as if I had been in the desert.

"Eddie, I...."

"Shhhh...." he whispers, "don't say anything."

He takes an oily substance, it smells delicious, and pours it in his hand. Gently he starts massaging me, carefully treating the scratches and abrasions on my skin. And where he touches me with his fingers, the palms of his hands, his mouth follows. The inside of his arms follow, his legs follow, his cheeks, his hair. I feel him everywhere; I feel everything of him everywhere. As if he tries to devour me.

Driving blind, to hell knows where

"Oh...Hálwen." Eddie moans.

With you

And then he abruptly lets me go. Strokes the hair from his face and as if in despair he squeezed his eyes tight.

He turns of the tab. Gets out of the cabin, takes a big soft towel and softly starts rubbing me dry.

And again; as if I'm a baby and as if he can't get enough of it he lifts me up and carries me back to my room.

With care he lays me down on the bed while his eyes scan every part of my body. A slight smile plays around his beautiful lips and a soft look in his eyes.

"Not of this earth." An almost inaudible whisper from his mouth.

Now I hold out my hand. Beg him to come to me.

He kneels next to me on the bed. Leans over to kiss me. A deep thorough kiss. The feeling of his tongue in my mouth. Ohh. What it does to me.

I cling to him. My arms around his neck.  He leans on one elbow, his other arm lifting me partly out of the bed, pressing me against him. Then, without letting me go, he rolls over - on his back. I stroke his hair from his forehead to look at his face; with my fingers I trace his brows.

"You are so beautiful, Eddie." I say with a small voice.

He just smiles. A sad smile somehow.

His lips feel so soft under my fingertips. Playfully he nibbles them, making me shiver each time the tip of his tongue joins in.

Jealous of my fingertips I trace the heart shaped bow of his upper lip with my tongue.

And then our mouth entwine again in this kiss I would wish never to end.

Our lovers-wrestle gets us in a sitting position.

Drinking each other in. I grind my nakedness against the short hair of his under belly, feeling the length of his penis rubbing between my butt cheeks.

We are panting in the same rhythm.

At the moment I explode against his body and cry his name he grabs my hip with one hand and with the other slowly lowers me upon his rod. While he fills me up I still contract and shiver from my orgasm, making him groan and his thrusting uncontrolled.

"Hálwen...f-for gods-s-sake..." He moans.

With his arms tight around me he turns me on my back and starts screwing me in a passionate almost violent manner. But at the same time he softly kisses me, makes sweet loving sounds, caressing my face, my hair.
I push myself up against him; raise my hips to receive every stroke.

And while he looks me in the eyes he suddenly turns rigid and with a last powerful move he unloads in me, causing me to come a second time.
"My love...." he whispers in my ears.
And without letting me go we fall into an endlessly deep sleep. Entwined, our bodies glowing and shimmering with sweat.

The next morning I wake by loud pounding and shouting at the upstairs floor.
Eddie is partly lying on me. One hand possessively on one of my breasts the other tangled in my hair. My head is in the crook of his arm. I kiss his chest, where his arm ends.
His skin is soft against my lips. I breathe in his scent.
He looks so cute in his sleep. Like a faun. A smile on his pink heart shaped mouth.
His dick lies on my thigh. It's big but not repulsive at all. Quite beautiful in a way.
I smile.

"Eddie, wake up." I quietly whisper in his ear.

"Hmmm." He breathes contently.

"Eddie...someone is in your room."

Then the person stomps down the stairs and there is loud banging on my door.

"Eddie! Are you here?"

"What!" Eddie yells, holding me closer.

The door opens. It is the bass player of Eddie's band.

"Come on, dude." He cries out. "You have to hurry. The bus leaves in 10 minutes. Get your stuff."

Eddie groans, and jumps out of bed.

Hurriedly he drapes a towel around his hips and turns to me.

"Hálwen, I...uh....you...."

"Say goodbye to the chick, Ed!" He high fives Eddie. "We're going on tour abroad, man!"

"Sorry, babe." Eddie says and he kneels next to me to place a kiss on my forehead.

"I'll be back before you know it. And remember: Abstinence lets the creativity flow." He says with a crooked smile as he gets up and walks away with that cougar pace he owns.

"You fucking asshole!" I cry.

He is out of the door before my flip-flop hits him.

The sculptor; part 12

The bassist puts his arm around Eddie's shoulders and leads him back for an encore.

I can see Eddie taking a deep breath as he takes the steps to the stage.
Then he turns and with a intensity in his eyes that almost shock me he nods.

My heart just skips a beat and I feel something inside my tummy squeeze tight.

I run to the cloakroom to get my things.

Suddenly I'm so nervous. I have to get home. Arrange things.

When I get outside it's pouring rain.

I still hear the muffled sound of the band playing. It makes my strangely exited to know that I'll have the frontman in my bed this night. I don't care about Esther, about his girlfriend or any other girl that claims him. He'll be mine tonight. If things go right.

"Hálwen!"

I look around and see Rave standing at the exit of the venue.
He walks towards me in a quick pace, unfolding an umbrella.

"Come, let me walk you home. That way?" Offering his arm and umbrella as protection against the heavy downfall.

"Sorry about what happened to you this evening. Are you alright?" He says.

"A few scratches and it was rather overwhelming, but I'm fine."

"What an prick to do that to you."

"It was part of the show, I guess." I lie.

"He is an asshole. But somehow girls seem to dig him. I think he had every girl in my year."

"Is that so?"

"Hmm...I hate him." He laughs.

We walk past a fast food corner and I feel my empty stomach growling.

I drag Rave inside and we buy something and eat it under the umbrella on a small bench in the park.

It has stopped raining but Rave insists on walking me home.

We arrive in the alley that leads to my front door. I turn and start to thank Rave for his company when suddenly he looks all serious and mutters:

"Can I kiss you?"

Before I can answer he already leans in and brushes his lips over mine while he holds my shoulders to pull me closer.

"Well, well....If it isn't my flatmate. You little floozy." I hear a mocking voice.

Eddie.

Eddie with his deep, soft voice.

I take a quick step back from Rave, whose hands fall to his sides - in an annoyed gesture clutching his fists.

"Hey Eddie, go fish in your own pond." Rave says, irritated.

"Oh, don't mind me, children. Carry on."

He opens the front door and slams it behind him.

"Sorry about that." Rave shakes his head.

"It's okay, Rave." I tell him. "I had a great evening. It was great to meet you. Thanks for the shelter. Goodnight."

I peck him on the cheek. Ignore the disappointment on his face, retrieve my keys from my pocket and get inside.

As I close the door behind me I drop to my knees, press my fists against my eyes and cry out in frustration.
He came home, he came home...alone! Stupid, stupid Hálwen. I grumble to myself.

Then I get up and walk to my room. As I pass the stairs that lead to the upstairs floor I see Eddie sitting on one of the steps. Smoking. A beer bottle in his hands.

I look up at him. He looks tired.

"Hi...flatmate." He says with a serious face.

"Hi."

"Do you want one?" He lifts his beer.

"No thanks...I think I'll go to bed."

Suddenly he gets up and jumps down. He cups my chin in his hand, pulls my head to the side. Inspects my neck. Then he takes my arm. Strokes it with his fingers. Lingering at the bruises.

"....god." He whispers.

To my surprise he takes me up in his arms and carries me to my room.
There he puts me down, kneels in front of me and takes of my boots and socks. With averted eyes he peels of my torn t-shirt, opens my jeans and lowers it. Let's me lean on his shoulders while I step out. He looks around him and finds a thin blanket. Drapes it around me and as if I am a child he lifts me up again and puts me in my comfortable chair.

"Wait." He says with a stern face and leaves my room.

Half dozing away, but I'm waiting. My heart beats so fast. At the same time I'm so tired.

My skin hurts, and I feel dirty.
And I have no idea what Eddie is doing and why he wants me to wait.

Eventually I must have fallen asleep when I hear the door being opened and see Eddie coming inside wearing only a bath towel around his hips.
A dream.

But then he takes me in his arms again and carries me through the corridor towards the bathroom. I breath in his scent and with my face in the crook of his neck I can not help but stroke his skin with my lips and carefully taste him with my tongue.

He softly hums when I do that.

The bathroom is all misty from the hot running water and Eddie seems to have put candles in every corner.
"I cleaned it for you." He whispers in my hair as he puts me down.

He takes away the towel from his hips and steps under the shower. I can see his arousal.

He holds out is hands for me to join him.

The sculptor; part 11

"You're Hálwen, aren't you?"

I don't even look up at the young man standing next to me. I can't get my eyes off the door that seems to have swallowed Eddie. It feels like I've been standing here for decades. He's probably swallowed by Esther too, by now. I smirk.

"I'm Ravondir." He laughs. "Our parents seem to have the same weird taste in naming their offspring. "Well, I probably should be glad they didn't call me Bilbo."

I turn my head towards him now. One brow lifted.

"Pardon me?"

"Hi, please call me Rave." He has a nice smile.

I smile back.

It's almost midnight and we are waiting for the last band to get on stage.

People are clapping. Slow. Whistling. Shouting. The stagehands are making some changes. The bass player is doing a final sound check.

Rave gets back with three beers. But Martin has already gone home.

"He's in my year." Rave tries to make himself heard and speaks close to my ear, pointing at the bass player. His breath tickles my ear.

"He's very good, you know. I hope he won't quit acting."

"Why would he do that?" I shout back.

"His band is very successful. Even abroad. An album is coming out soon. They'll probably be touring again."

"Are they all from here?" I ask as he leans in again.

He smells rather good actually.

"Yes. Drama and art. Mostly from your academy. Two of them sculptors and one painter."

"And you?"

"What?"

"Are you good too?" I kind of flirt.
He takes a deep breath.

"The reason no man knowes, let it suffise,

    What we behold is censur'd by our eyes.

    Where both deliberat, the love is slight,

    Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?"

"That is beautiful! Whoa. Who wrote that?"

"Marlowe."

"Yes," I say, touching his chest, "I guess you are good."

I don't even notice that the lights have changed. But when my gaze goes from Rave's face to the stage I see why the crowd has started to applaud: the band is complete.

And in the middle of the stage, hard to recognize because of the backlight, is Eddie.

He's plugging in a Fender Telecaster, but I feel he's staring at me. His hair, as always, partly over his face, but I feel his eyes upon me.

And as he shakes his head I can see he is not amused. Could it be by the interaction he seems to have witnessed between Rave and me? Surely not...

The opening of the band is really dynamic and the crowd is so exited. They climb the stage and dive into the heap of people in front. Surfing. Kicking. It makes me feel unsafe and I lean against Rave for protection. He puts his arm around me and shouts in my ear:

"You want to leave?"

I only shake my head.
I want to watch Eddie. I want to hear his voice. I want to hear him pluck those cords.

He is amazing. He seems in trance, dancing. Head bend, that beautiful hair, dripping wet from sweat. And when he thrusts his hips forward and touches his belly, leaning with his head backward I just want to scream like a mad woman.

"They're fabulous, right?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to sit on my shoulders?"

Before I know it Rave lifts me on his back.

The result is that people start throwing beer at us. Within seconds I'm soaking wet.

The band is jamming, Rave is jumping, Eddie is shaking his long hair and the crowd seems to ignite.

And then suddenly all seems to go into slow motion somehow.

Eddie does a run-up and dives into the crowd. Right in front of us. In front of Rave and me. He launches himself and at the same time grabs me from Rave's shoulders and pulls me towards him.

Elbows Rave who makes a weak attempt to retrieve me.
"Hey, she's with me."

But Eddie just laughs and places the palms of his hands on both sides of my cheeks, his thumbs touching my lips as he presses his mouth over mine. Kissing me deep while the people let us glide over their heads. On a sea of hands. Eddie clutches me tight when slowly we slide to the ground - and before we get trampled security men urge us back to the stage.
Commotion because one security guy wants to shove me back, but Eddie won't let me go.
His body, wet with sweat, holds me in a firm grip while the guy is pulling me away from him.

I scream.

"You're hurting her!" He yells.

I'm sitting in a cheerless room behind the stage. Crates with beer bottles, crew cases for instruments, some clothes racks. Messy.
After the pulling and shoving Eddie and a stagehand brought me back stage, because I was about to faint. Eddie had to leave me behind though.

He gently kissed me on my forehead and carefully stroked the hair from my face. He winked, gave his wicked smile and then he rushed back.
I'm so confused.

A kind, big bellied, man drapes a blanket over me and gives me a bottle of water. My ears are whizzing and I seem to have little wounds everywhere. Scratches. Bruises. My tee is ruined, torn and wet with beer.

I want to cry, but I won't.
Esther is sitting on a couch on the other side of the room. Looking at me through squinted eyes. Measuring me. Smoking theatrically, in a Marlene Dietrich kind of way.

"You know this is all just a game for him. Don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she gives me a disdainful look, “surely you don't think he is really interested in you?"

"I have no idea what to think." I say calmly. "But I'm going to watch the rest of the show."

With the blanket around me I walk out of the room as proudly as I can.

"Remember when he fucks you that I had him earlier tonight." She jeers after me.

I'm standing at the side of the stage, partly behind a black curtain.

They are playing a more quiet song. Eddie's baritone is enchanting me.

I hadn't given his band much thought. I was more curious in his art, in him. But now.... watching him, I realize what a big part of him this band must be. He seems so open. He seems naked. Vulnerable but strong.

And this song...sexual, hurt, innocent and somehow disturbing.

During the refrain he kneels and almost bends over the mic, dramatically moving his body back and worth.
I want to rush to him. Take him in my arms. Love him. Make love to him.

And then it is over. Cheers from the audience. Shouting for an encore.
Eddie and his mates leave the stage.

The bearded man with the big belly hands a dazed Eddie a towel, and while he is wiping his face I walk up to him.

"There is more to you then meets the eye." I whisper in his ear.
Softly I kiss him on the corner of his mouth.

With a sigh I press my body against him.
And as I caress his warm, smooth, wet body...his tight abdomen, I continue.
"Will you please come to my room tonight?"

"Come, Eddie." The bassist calls. "We have to give them some more."