The first time we make love the world explodes. I mean it. The world. Literally. Explodes.
If our bodies weren't so indestructible, we would never be able to survive this. The force of his hips against mine, the strength I use to grip his hair and pull him to me, the intensity with which we dig our nails into each other's skin—any of these would be sufficient to end both our lives were we not immortal.
As it is, only material things suffer from the force of our explosion. My blue Italian dress is the first casualty as Jasper, in his frustration at not being able to work the various clasps and buttons fast enough, settles for shredding it off of me instead. Jasper's clothes don't fare much better. I try to be patient, I really do. But honestly, why do clothes have to have so many buttons? I give up, and in less than a second, the unrecognizable scraps of his pants and shirt are lying on the floor next to mine.
We make a dent in the wall that's exactly Jasper's shape and size when I press myself against him just a little too hard. Plaster flies everywhere. The bed frame collapses the moment he and I tumble onto the mattress together. The mattress itself reaches its breaking point right around the same time we do, and as we groan into each other's necks, the overtaxed springs rip their way out of the fabric and break several windowpanes in their various flights.
It is over in seconds—ninety-eight of them to be exact.
Hot damn.
Interested in how the other three times go? Check out Struck Upon A Star's great, short story. And don't forget to leave her some comment love!
Enjoy!!!
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