On My Worst Day
By Beccabo

Complete

I am, on my worst day, a sinner. Hell, on my best day I sin only a hand full of times without trying. On my worst day, the thought of getting out of bed to face a world that doesn't want to change is daunting. On those days, I want to hide behind her and peek over her shoulder at the monsters outside the door. She faces them with a smirk and a raised eyebrow before proceeding to kick their asses. She's my knight in a white lab coat. With a nifty little name badge too.

On my worst day, she is all that I believe in. I believe in the scent of her hair, the taste of her skin, the twinkle in her eye. She is all that grounds me. She will lie beside me, her fingers laced with mine and she won't even ask what’s wrong. She doesn't want or need to know. On those days, I worship her. On those days, I am a sinner. Just like always.

On my best day, she lightens my burden with a smile and an embrace. And as always, I worship her in secret, never voicing the wonderlust I feel. Is it wrong to love and worship the same person that you lust for? I think it is, but then she wanders out of the bathroom after her bath, clad only in a fluffy towel that reaches just to her knees, and I am in lust. Her face is flushed from the heat of her bath and her hair sticks to the back of her neck. I love her with her hair wet. She sees me watching and does a little dance for me, ending with her blowing a kiss at me before disappearing into the walk-in closet. I am in love with her. I would bow down to her. I chuckle softly as I realized I already have.

An hour later we lie in bed in silence, nothing else need be said. My hands are flat on her back; she's still damp from her bath. Her hair tickles my nose, my breath on her neck. She sighs a little. I sit up and press a hand to her back. I move closer to her. Her breathing is shallow. I run my fingers through her hair. Her eyes close and she leans into my touch. I press a kiss behind her ear and another just below it. My teeth gently scrape her earlobe. I hear her hiss. There is an expectant silence. I know what she wants to hear.

I turn her around and see her eyes are wet with tears. I don't want her to cry. I hold her face and kiss them away. She looks at me, her eyes filled with a lust/love I can see reflected in my own. I kiss her and she kisses me. I hold her close, as possessed by her as she by me. We bask in the light between us, the sheets discarded on the floor. Her head rests against my chest, her fingers playing across my stomach. She is the picture of calm and glory. I am so in love with her. Her eyes reflect it back. She is in love with me. And I tell her so.

She turns to face me with that smirk and quirked eyebrow. I think she's going to kick my ass. She reaches up and wraps her arms around my neck. We kiss gently. Our bodies pressed to the mattress, we mold, join, and tangle until we are as one entity. I have not failed her this time. I will not fail her again. If only that were true.

On my worst days, I love her and only her. And on my best, she comes a close second. Now, if I could only get her to believe it.

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