The Ever Shifting Eye Color Concept

By: Rhyming Chick

 

They were more than blue. They were azure, or turquoise, or aquamarine. Whatever they were, they weren't just plain, old blue. Of course I can't tell at the moment because his eyes are closed. They often are. I had been trying to settle on what colour Joshua's eyes were ever since some random girl in the ticket line had whispered quite loudly to her friend to check out "the guy with the amazing blue eyes." For some reason the remark had offended me. Not because there were two way underage giggling schoolgirls checking out my boyfriend careless of the fact that he was holding my hand and leaning heavily against me, but because they had said his eyes were blue. Of course I hadn't realised that was what was making me mad until we were inside the movie theatre and at that point it was too dark for me to look closely and figure out the correct colour. So I'd sat through the movie quietly, waiting for the light to come back on for me to have a chance at closer inspection. Unfortunately, the harsh light returning after such an extended period in the dark bothered my baby's eyes, and he immediately covered his orbs with a pair of sunglasses that had been hidden within some unknown pocket in his jacket.

 

The sunglasses had remained on until we'd gotten to my apartment. I let him go up ahead of me with his key, stopping to pick up the mail that I had neglected for the majority of the week. Nothing important caught my eye in the pile of useless junk mail, my thoughts therefore returned to finding out exactly what was Joshua's eye colour. I called his name when I didn't see him in either the kitchen or the living room. Then I noticed that my bedroom door was slightly ajar. A few thoughts that I definitely shouldn't have been thinking raced through my mind. Unconsciously, I bit my bottom lip as I made my way over to the door, gently pushing it open. I gasped. He was asleep on the bed. That's right, knocked out cold. I stretched my body out beside him, looking over his features, as if I would eventually be able to tell what colour his eyes were through his eyelids. That idea obviously failed, but I couldn't find a reason to get off the bed. So that's where I still am. Wondering exactly what shade his eyes are.

 

"Stare much?" I could have sworn he was still sleeping. Of course he might be unconscious, just talking in his sleep again, freaking the hell out of me. The only movement coming from him is a slight stretch of the arm as his head tries to snuggle deeper into the pillow. Maybe I'd just imagined it. Maybe he was still sleeping.

 

"Would you stop?" His arm reaches out from under him and pushes me down until my elbow is no longer supporting my head. Still with eyes closed, he envelops me between his arms, hugging me close to his body. You wouldn't expect him to be so sturdy considering the fact that his as skinny as a pole, but it seems to be all muscle, nice, comfortable to rest against muscle. I decided that I can check his eyes out later and let myself nestle against him. We lay there silently for a few minutes, me listening to his breathing and him most probably going right back to sleep.

 

"What are you staring at me for anyway?" I bite back some remark about him asking way too many questions because that will only cause him to answer back with something as sarcastic and to be completely honest I'm really not in the mood to change this rare quiet moment into a playful argument. I try to think up some kind of excuse other than the real reason but fail horribly.

 

"I'm trying to figure out what colour your eyes are." The hand that had been wandering up and down my back ceases its motion. His chest moves a little against me as if he's chuckling at my confession.

 

"What in the world are you talking about?" I let out a deep breath that falls just under the pendant that hangs from his neck. His body shivers at the feeling and I feel it against every single part of me.

 

"I'm trying to figure out what colour your eyes are." Hey, it wasn't my fault if he couldn't figure out what I was talking about. Apparently, he didn't really care though, as he pulled me back against his warmth.

 

"They're blue." His answer only irritates me all the more. Alright, they're blue, but they aren't just blue . . . they're . . . well, they're, they're something more. I bite my lip as I try to figure out what exactly I'm trying to say. Meanwhile, I picture his eyes in my mind, since he still won't open them up right now, trying to figure out what exactly is bugging me so much about the question. Finally, it dawns on me.

 

"Yeah, mostly. But they change. They're not always just blue." The sentence doesn't really make all that much sense to me, but it's the only way I can explain what I'm thinking.

 

"Ah! The ever shifting eye colour concept." He pulls me even closer to him, though I could have sworn I was as close as I could possibly get. His right hand finds my hair and starts smoothing it against my head. "Then you're right, they're not blue, blue. But for the sake of not complicating everything, they're blue."

 

"The ever shifting eye colour concept?" I repeat the sentence word for word trying to figure out exactly what it means. To be perfectly honest I'd settle for a slight idea of what it means. He answers with a simple grunt, as if that's suppose to appease my never-ending curiosity. I pull away from him, though God knows that's the last thing I want to do, until he lazily opens his eyes and looks at me. I raise my eyebrows in a questioning glance.

 

"Alright." He props himself on his right elbow, apparently preparing himself for a long conversation. "The ever shifting eye concept. It's like this. You've got your basic eye colour, mine's blue, yours is brown. Get it?" I nod. He mimics the action in approval of my following his reasoning. "Okay, but the thing is, it never really stays the same colour. It shifts shades and stuff depending on your mood or the time of day or what your wearing or whatever."

 

I am completely lost. I've never been one to spend all that much time on detail, usually missing the little things that other people obsess over. Joshua must have sensed my confusion as he grasps on of my hands and goes into further detail.

 

"Well, like you, when you wake up, your eyes are really really pale brown. Then when you get mad they become a darker shade. When you're sad, they seem to become softer, almost all iris, no pupil. And when I have to leave they get all shiny from the tears that you're convinced I don't see." I truly tried to listen to every word that came out of the boy's mouth, unfortunately as he was talking Josh's hand let go of mine and started travelling up my arm. His fingertips dragged along my soft skin, causing shivers to flow the length of my spine. For a moment, his fingers stopped in my hair, testing the tresses for some kind of sensation. Once he got bored with that, his hand travelled down my body to rest on my waist, sneaking under my tank top to heat the skin of my side. It rested obediently there until he got to the part where he was talking about having to leave, at which point his hand reached up, allowing his thumb to trace the outline of my eye. Which only helped me realised that Joshua and I are in bed together, our bodies mere inches from one another, him wearing his boxer-briefs and me in nothing but a tank top and boxer shorts. Somehow I resist the urge to just jump him right away, and assure him that I was following his story the entire time he was speaking.

 

"Oh. Like you. Your eyes are practically gray when you're tired. And they're a really soft blue when you're confused." He nods his head to let me know that I understood what he was getting at. His eyes immediately close again, as Josh prepares to return to his blissful sleep. "There's just one thing though." I can practically hear the moan of protest at being once again interrupted from his rest.

 

"And what's that baby?" He leaves his eyes closed, obviously hoping the question will require a short, easy answer. I lean in close to him, my lips a breath's distance from touching his ear. He doesn't seem to notice as his eyes are still closed and he remains completely still.

 

"I can't seem to remember what colour they are, when you're about to come in me." His eyes fly open and he takes in a sharp breath in what can only be shock. A weak cough is his attempt at covering up his reaction. Joshua's hands move my head so that I'm directly in front of him, looking straight into his eyes. He smiles an unbelievably impish smile at me.

 

"Really? Well, we'll just have to remind you then, won't we?" I can't even answer before he flips me onto my back, laying himself on top of me. I try again to answer something, anything, but his mouth finds mine, and his tongue plunging in me stops any kind of sound from escaping my lips. His hands find my waist, freeing me of my shorts and underwear before I even realise he's touching me. He returns his body on top of mine, only to let me find that somewhere along the way, he too has lost whatever clothes he was wearing.

 

"Hurry much?" I tease. But he either doesn't hear or doesn't care as he pulls my top from my body. He pauses for a moment, letting his hand travel from my shoulder to my waist, touching as much skin as he can with the lightest touch imaginable. His eyes travel down my body, starting at my neck, until they reach my ankles. Once he's done perusing me, he locks his gaze with mine.

 

"So far?" He asks, sure that I'll understand what he's telling me. And somehow I do.

 

"A little darker than they were, but still a pretty usual blue." He makes a noise that suggests contemplation as he shifts a little on top of me. His lips journey my skin, left temple, right ear, corner of my mouth, base of my throat. Every time they leave me I'm left wondering where they'll stop next. His mouth takes a few moments to taste the blanched skin of my breasts. I reach for him, one hand stroking his side while the other gently fists strands of his dark hair. The hair I'm not holding, tickles my stomach as he moves lower. A wet kiss at my rib cage, a few licks of my stomach, a nip at my hip bone . . . I'm writhing beneath him. As his mouth makes contact with my thigh, high inner right thigh to be exact, I remember that this wasn't what I had planned when we started this little escaped. My gentle grip becomes little tugs as I try to get his attention. Finally, he feels the strain, tilting his hand to look up at me. I almost forget what I have to say when I feel his day old stubble rub against me.

 

"Hey." I whisper, unable to find a stronger voice. "Get up here." The kind of smile you'd see if he just stole the last cookie from the cookie jar takes over his face as he literally slithers up my body, "accidentally" touching all my soft spots on the way.

 

"You called?" He whispers, his mouth moving against mine. His tongue snakes out to trace my lips before giving me a chance to answer.

 

"I can't see your eyes if you're down there. What would the point of that have been?" How I can even manage the words when all I want is him to get back down there and finish what he started is beyond me. Being interrupted doesn't seem to deter him however.

 

"I would have come back up eventually. Who's hurrying now, eh?" I am fully aware of the fact that he doesn't expect me to be able to answer him as his left hand has taken over the spot his mouth had appropriated itself. Never mind the gentle touch his lips were giving me, his fingers are kneading my skin, demanding a reaction from me. From the impish look in his eyes, I can tell that he can feel that desired answer from where he is. I can't take the teasing, trying anything to get him to stop playing his games.

 

"You know, if you don't get this started soon, you'll never get a chance to go to sleep tonight." Everyone who knows him knows the man would sleep all day if he was allowed. Hopefully, the thought of losing sleep will get him moving.

 

"I had a nap while you were staring at me. I'm good for a while, thanks." I groan both at the fact that he apparently isn't going to be moving any faster, and at the fact that his hand just moved up at least half an inch. With all my willpower, I pry my eyes open and look into his, already having shifted to a dark cerulean blue. My back arches, raising my hips of the mattress and my body harder against his hand.

 

"Now. Please Josh." I'm not used to begging, usually letting him do most of the talking and pleading during our encounters, but damn if I can hold out much longer. I've been subconsciously needing this, this reassurance that we fit perfectly together ever since I heard those two girls talk in the ticket line. The feel of him in me, the feel that he is mine has been lingering around me for who knows how many hours now, and for once I forget that I like being in control. He moves his fingers into me, making sure I'm as ready as I believe I am, as he places his mouth right next to my ear.

 

"There's the eye colour I love to see." Before I can even register what he's said, his fingers move away from me. I moan in protest, but it turns into a different moan when he replaces them with a much more fulfilling member. My head falls back in surprise as my eyes squeeze shut. "How are you going to see my eyes, if yours are shut there baby?"

 

I pry my orbs open to look into his. They're definitely darker now, but still holding on to the softness that simply is Joshua. Before I can even mention the change, his mouth melds to mine. His tongue strokes mine slowly with languid, patient caresses compare to the rhythm he's created in the lower part of my body. When I fell myself getting out of breath, I gently push his shoulders away from me. His head tilts toward mine, refusing to break the contact. Once I finally move him far enough that his lips can't reach me, I let my eyes fall open. His own eyelids seem to be lifting at the same time.

 

"Dark. Very, very dark chocolate." He whispers, letting his forehead rest against mine. His hands snake under my body, popping up behind my shoulders and hanging on for his life, pulling my body even closer to his. I swallow the lump that has invaded my throat before answering him.

 

"Gorgeous. Almost cerulean." I realise that the reason I can't remember ever having seen his eyes this colour is because my eyes are usually clenched shut by this point of our encounters. My gaze can't escape his and I swear that I would orgasm right then even if he wasn't filling me, just due to the lust emanating from his eyes. I know I can't hold on much longer, and I pray that he too is ready. I try desperately to get him there with me. "Baby, I can't . . . "

 

"I know." He answers, placing a surprisingly chaste kiss to my lips. He returns his forehead against mine, and looks me once again in the eyes. "Me neither." I bite my lip to try to keep from going over the edge, but at the same moment Joshua reaches a spot in me that he had been ignoring so far that night, probably saving it to send me instantaneously over the edge. As I tighten around him, I see his eyes sparkle with what could practically be mistaken for silver, taking over whatever spot his pupil was occupying. Neither of us can help it once we explode, our eyes clench shut as our bodies arch toward each other.

 

We lay there for a while, Joshua still on top of me, still inside of me for that matter. Eventually, I breathing returns to its normal pace, and Josh rolls onto his back, taking me with him so that I am neatly tucked against his side. He absent-mindedly strokes my hair until I'm sure it's just some gesture he's keeping up even though he's fallen asleep.

 

"So, what's the verdict?" He asks, his mouth much closer to me that I thought it was. I pretend to contemplate the question for a few seconds before answering.

 

"Well, your eyes are definitely not just blue. That's for sure. And I think you're really onto something with this concept of yours." He chuckles at my answer.

 

"Good. ‘Cause your eyes are definitely not just brown." His other hand, the one that isn't busy with my hair, travels up and down the length of my side, sending a fiery trail of heat in its wake. I wonder momentarily if he even knows what he's doing to me. He moves his leg to a more comfortable position, brushing my centre with his thigh. I look up to see if he's watching me, but his eyes are closed, suggesting that he truly isn't aware of what his body is doing to me and that he is fully prepared to rest now.

 

"You know," I start, feeling his eyes fall upon me, "I don't think I remember what your eyes look like when you're taking me in the shower." My hand lowers, stroking his thigh as I wait for a reaction.

 

"Hmm." He says, either revelling in the touch or contemplating the situation. "Well, then I guess it's a good thing I took that nap." I barely have time to register what's happening, as he lifts me up and carries me toward the bathroom.

 

The End

 

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