The Last 30 Days [Inactive]

Blake had hardly gotten two paragraphs into the book when he looked up at the sound of Isabelle's voice. "Good second morning," he said happily, folding the top corner of the book's page. "Did you sleep well?"
 
She nodded in approval and spread her arms wide, one going over Blake's lap and in front of his book. Teasingly, of course.


"I've never fallen asleep sitting up before." Isabelle admitted sheepishly. "I can't believe I did that." She turned her head to Blake, "What book is that?"
 
Blake frowned as he stared down at Isabelle's arm, reaching across his book. He lifted his book, forcing her arm to flop down on his lap. He put his book back where it had been. "It's Game of Thrones," he said, turning his head to look at her. "It's pretty good so far," he said sarcastically. "The first paragraph is always the best."
 
"Isn't that the series where everyone dies?" Isabelle asked, there was a show, and she'd heard of it somewhere for the author having a rather sadistic way of treating his characters. She tried to read the pages, but they were too far away, not that she was as invested as Blake was.


"Yeah, the author likes to kill off all the characters." She nodded, reaffirming her previous statement.
 
Blake nodded, running his hand through his knotted hair. "Yeah, from what I heard a bunch of the characters die. Hopefully all the characters I like survive." This never happened though, everytime Blake liked a character, no matter the book, they always died.


"What's the plan for today?" he asked, not lifting his gaze to the beach in front of them. It was just as pretty as it was yesterday, and just as clear. There was no one there.
 
Isabelle lazily rolled onto her side, her hand slapped against her other arm. She wrapped one leg on top of Blake, and did her best to be everywhere at once.


"I don't know. I'm not ready to get up yet." Isabelle grumbled into his side. "Just play with my hair, rub my back." Jokingly she whispered, "Me, me, me."


The beach would be there if she got up ten minutes, or a whole two hours later. For the moment, she wanted to enjoy the opportunity to stay tucked in the back of a truck under the world's warmest duvet.
 
"You, you, you," he whined, making a face as he pushed his book aside and positioned himself next to Isabelle. He was laying on his side, one hand rubbing her back. His hand was making lazy circles over her shoulder blades, only sometimes actually rubbing in. Occasionally he'd run his hand up into her hair and scratch her head.
 
Isabelle turned her head to expose more of her neck, as his hands trailed over her skin, he'd sometimes rub in, and it felt especially nice in the area at the base of her neck. Even as he scratched her hair, all she could feel was bliss.


"I'm not a cat, but that's really nice." She teased, leaning forward to peck him with her lips."
 
He sat up, refusing to accept her kiss and put both hands on her head and scratched gently, but furiously. He messed up her hair and then sat back against the truck proudly. Her hair was absolutely a mess, worse that Blake's hair when he first wakes up. He laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. "There's nothing wrong with being a cat."
 
Isabelle frowned at him and then turned away, her back facing Blake now. She tried to smooth her hair, but it was all in vain. He'd tangled it beyond repair, at least until she got her hands on a decent shower.


"You say that, but I enjoy having thumbs thank you." She tried fruitlessly to comb her fingers through the tangles, that didn't work either. Isabelle groaned in frustration. "Blaaaake."
 
"Cat's have dew claws, which are the cat equivalent of thumbs, so no complaining," he said, moving closer. He pushed her hands away from her tangled nest of hair and started combing through, being as gentle as he could. It took a while before he even made a dent in the mess. "And besides, if you were a cat, I'd love you more.... that was a joke."
 
"Meow, meow meow..." Isabelle mocked him by meowing for a while, and pressed her back to his chest. "I know you were."


She rested her head down and again exposed her neck some, turning only to eye up Blake. He untangled some of her hair, but, it would take a bit more than fingers to calm it.


"We could just sit here for a while, listen to the waves..." Isabelle droned on, "You could give me a kiss, too."
 
"I could give you a few kisses," he said matter of factly, pulling his fingers from her hair. He took her by the waist and guided her onto his lap so she was facing him. "Actually, kissing is a good idea." He grinned and pushed her mane of hair away from her face and leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss on her lips.
 
"See?" Isabelle giggled, her cheeks blushed. Blake had her again, her hair pushed back and their faces close. She planted a few short kisses all over his face, on his nose, his forehead, each cheek, bu avoided his lips until last. Isabelle leaned in and softly kissed his lips, once, twice, and then finally one more passionate than the others.
 
Blake kissed back, parting his lips even further as he tilted his head to the side. He idly thought about how he never got tired of this, never got tired of her warm lips pressed against his own. He was constantly desperate for her touch, like an addict reaching for the needle. She could go anywhere and he would follow if she asked, maybe even if she didn't ask. Blake had no idea what he'd do after the surgery.
 
Isabelle stared into his dark eyes with a longing to never let him go. It was possible for the time now, as they laid in the back of the truck in front of the beach. Still, there were no other people around them, a blessing really.


"I'm so glad we came." She mused, still resting on top of Blake after he'd pulled her. "No one here, but you." She kissed him. "And me. Remember, I'm all yours, Blake. I meant it."
 
"Same," agreed Blake, twirling a strand of her hair. When she kissed him he stopped twirling, moving his hand to cup her face. "All mine," he whispered back, an inch from her face. He quickly removed the inch and kissed her again, softly at first and then more and more passionately.
 
Her lips always craved for the touch of his, feeling as if she'd never get tired of their ever touching presence. And her hair, how he always managed to wrap himself up in her, her body and her face, they were always so close. It was all so real, and if it ended she didn't know what she'd do.


The surgery. They'd really have to talk about it, she was worried, but it could wait. Now, she only wanted to be wrapped up in Blake.
 
Blake's body was practically curled around Isabelle's, he couldn't seem to get close enough to her. He kissed her for a long time, mouth hot against the other. Isabelle's lips and tongue tasted sweet unlike most people who had morning breath, Blake only realized that she was always sweet, the skin on her neck just like her mouth.
 
Again, they spent the whole afternoon in bed, if one counted the bed of the truck as a formal bed. Isabelle's lips were never parted long from his body. She was sweet, and he was strong. Just a touch made her feel safer, better, more loving than the last.


"Blake..." She all but moaned his name, eager to have him be as close as possible.
 
Blake had barely moved from his spot, back pressed against the side of the truck. His legs were numb from Isabelle sitting on them but he didn't really mind, the feeling in his lips compensated for it. They felt like they were on fire, too hot but in a good way. They had barely parted from Isabelle's own lips all day. Blake responded to his name with a smile and he nudged her cheek with his nose. "I love you," he whispered back, bringing his lips back down on her's.
 
In all the heat, she guided his hands to her hips and under the layers of clothes she'd fallen asleep in. His hands on her skin served to drive her for more, more of him. She brought her lips to his, hands tangled up in his hair. Isabelle whispered back into his ear, "I love you, too, Blake." She pressed herself as close as she could and continued to bring her lips to his face.


Blake.





All she wanted, anything, was for him to touch every inch of her pale skin.
 
((I'm timeskipping now cause I'm lazy))


They were now laying underneath the white duvet, Blake on his side, looking at Isabelle. He was smiling softly, his eyes half closed. "You're so beautiful," he said happily, lifting a hand to touch the smooth skin of Isabelle's cheek. He trailed his hand down her neck over her collarbone. He left his hand there.
 
((What's wrong with lazy. I love lazy. haha))


Saturday, May 2nd:


She opened her eyes to the sight of him and she blushed, more than she had in days. Isabelle smiled again at his touch and her eyes lit up with a new wave of happiness. He had satisfied her cravings, that much was clear.


"You think so?" She beamed now, still red. "Blake, I-" Isabelle stroked his cheek with her hand and looked his face over a few times. What she wanted to say was clear already, but she'd say it again, as many times as was needed. "I love you."
 
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Blake breathed a laugh and replied, "You must." He closed his eyes completely and pulled Isabelle closer to him, wrapping her in his arms. Her skin was warm against his own, but his feet were cold and he rubbed one of them against her leg. "You must really really love me."
 
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