Paint Me Your Affections

Paint me your affections.

Shared by veronicalangley

Cara fluttered her eyes open and was blinded by sunlight. Not wanting to acknowledge the morning, she quickly buried her face in John’s shoulder. John yawned himself awake and turned toward her, pulling her body into his with affection.

She wrapped one arm around his torso and the other she curled across the back of his shoulder lacing her fingers into his tussled brown hair. Her hand pressing into the strength of his back, she pulled herself into him, absorbing his warmth and comfort.

John pressed his nose into her hair and inhaled her scent then kissed her crown repeatedly. Their torso’s pressed against each other and their legs entangled, John pulled the back of Cara’s shirt up and drew soft circles across her shoulder blades.

He made her so nervous, her stomach would light up with electric buzz and her finger tips tingle ever place that she touched him. Her breath would catch each time his fingers wandered lower on her back and her heartbeat quicken when he pulled her closer. She closed her eyes and focused on the sound of his heartbeat. Her ear pressed into his chest she could feel its steady pulse and hear it’s changing pace. The sleep was fading from him and as he became more and more awake, his heart awoke also.

Cara knew her heart was racing but loved it when his did too. It comforted her to know that she made him as nervous as he made her. Cara nuzzled herself further into his neck and pressed her ear deeper into his muscular chest desiring to be as close to him as she possibly could be.

John hummed a soft melody, his vocal cords vibrating in his throat and resonating through his chest. Cara let the feeling lull her back into rest.She was still half asleep when she heard his voice pierce through the cloud of her dreams, “Cara, I think I love you.”

All sleep fled her body, her eyes burst open and her body tensed against his. They were so young; Cara didn’t even know what love was. She tried to relax again, avoiding looking up at him, and casually replied, “We don’t even know what love is yet, honey.”

Cara felt his chin move over her head and knew he was smiling. “That’s my girl,” He chuckled, “Always so careful.” Cara felt indignation against him for chastising her honesty. “I’m not being careful, I’m being honest John. We’re too young to know what love is.”

“Who said there was a magical age you had to reach before you could understand love?” John laughed and Cara’s body bounced with his falling chest. She felt him pull her closer and felt his fingers tracing flowers across her lower back. He drew the same pattern every morning, she knew the track his fingers would follow and could anticipate where his hands would wander. She felt his fingertips following their usual pattern and inhaled his familiarity. He’d never said I love you before, and she tried to imprint the memory of them lying perfectly entwined together in her mind, fearful that everything was about to change. “Alright then, what is love John?” John took a heavy breath and a moment to think, then leaned close and kissed her forehead.

“Love is your hair tickling my chest when you lean forward and kiss me. Love is when I’m absolutely exhausted from the late shift at work and I still make sure to get up early enough to make you a cup of coffee before you wake up. It’s when you have dreadful morning breath and I still can’t resist kissing you. It’s that look you give me when your mother’s rattling a lecture and I’m being oh so patient. It’s when I come out of the closet and you immediately send me back for wearing sandals with socks so I don’t embarrass myself. It’s when I stopped pity laughing at your jokes and started to actually think you were funny. It’s when we’re lying in bed and you use my beard to scratch your back instead of just asking me to.

‘Love is when I leave the toilet seat up for the millionth time and you still yell at me to put it back down. Love is when you hug me and I flex not because I want to impress you or because I’m self-conscious but because I want you to always feel protected in my arms. It’s the first time you let me put my hand on your stomach when we cuddled because you were confident with your body and comfortable under my touch. Love is our first date when your father threatened to kill me if I brought you home late and I did anyways because I wanted just a few more minutes with you. Love is when you wake up before me but stay still so that you don’t wake me up. It’s when I wake before you but don’t move so that I can watch you dream.
Love is when we fought and screamed at each other and you ran out into the rain and I still brought you an umbrella. Love is when I kiss you for the millionth time and still feel as nervous as the first time. Love is how you still shiver every time I run my fingers down your spine. Love is when you still kick me in the face if I try to tickle you.

The first time I heard you say ‘I love you’ in your sleep, that’s when I knew I loved you too.” John pulled back and propped himself up on his elbow, Cara tilted her head up to face him, all resentment and worry had faded from her. Do I love him? She asked herself. Cara already knew the answer; she already knew her feelings, so why am I so scared to say it?

Cara had been hurt before, Cara had been used, so who’s to say he wasn’t telling her he loved her to get something or have control over her? John watched her think and stayed silent. He put his head back down and pulled her into his chest again, they were as close as they had been before but now something felt different. Cara felt almost brave enough to tell him but held her tongue in fear that his feelings were too immature to trust, too sudden to be real. John began slowing tracing swirls and lines on her back again, the same pattern as this morning, the same pattern as yesterday, same as a week ago, same as a month ago, and he leaned into her, placing his lips against her ear and softly whispered. “Love is when I write ‘I love you’ on your back every morning as I silently pray that you love me too.”

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