You'll learn when you're older [Clouis Lemons] English version

Let me help you

Let the walkers come. Let them arrive by hundreds. Let them go through the walls and take over the patio. Anything, except this.

Clementine was overwhelmed, and she couldn't blame the confinement. It was part of survival, sharing the same space with others who dealt with her same journey. But that day she wanted solitude. She needed it. Luckily AJ had acquired the habit of going out on patrol, or she wouldn't have had a second to deal with the thoughts that, precisely that afternoon, didn't leave her mind at peace. Nor to her body.

Of all the ideas that passed through her mind, the most intense and persistent took her directly to Louis. It wasn't unusual for her to think of him; after all, he was her boyfriend, but she hadn't thought about him that way. It was different. They were no longer the tender butterflies of the beginning of the relationship, that powerful throbbing that made her shy and look down after a kiss. She blamed him for feeling that way, because he had taught her that you could kiss with something more than the lips. From the first contact of their tongues ​​that urged her a little more each time.

And it was no longer comfortable just to put their mouths together or hold hands. Little by little, Clementine was beginning to understand that this had to be what she had heard so much talk about in the groups to which she had belonged throughout her life. That fascinating subject that the adults, in spite of the hunger and of the constant struggle to stay on their feet, didn't let go. She couldn't either. She couldn't ignore it anymore. And worst of all, she didn't know how to tell Louis. How ironic that she could face walkers and psychopaths without trembling, but she was unable to communicate to her boyfriend that she wanted him to touch her.

It's his fault. He always has to be a fucking gentleman, she thought in frustration in her room

The more she turned on her bed, the more questions came to her. Why didn't he just grab her ass or caress her legs? It seemed to be something that couples liked, especially boys. She had seen it. Louis was a boy. Was he waiting for an invitation or what? The pillow didn't want to answer her.

She wanted a break. A relief that would end with her courage, or at least drown it for an afternoon. What was the worst that could happen if she allowed herself to fantasize? Getting it out of her system might be just what she needed to end that madness. And she closed her eyes, going back to the electrical impulses that sheltered her flesh with that first contact of tongues. She wondered what would have happened if he had slid his hands under her clothes. She looked around nervously, as if she were being watched and discovered in such blatant thoughts.

Alone in her bed. Closed door. She was safe. It didn't really matter, because now that she had started, it was hard to stop thinking about him. Returning to the stage in her mind, she wondered what would happen if he wrapped those daring hands around her bare breasts.

At that moment, she breathed a sigh. Her face warmed at the thought of Louis undressing her with impudence, with as much need as she felt to be with him. It was that last reverie that gave her the momentum she needed to let her hand sink beneath her waist and slip into her underwear. But in her mind it wasn't her who reached that point, but him.

The shame was left behind, displaced by something bigger and that didn't admit pauses. For days she had taken pains to repress any notion of desire that deconcentrated her from the daily task of survival. Now that she was finally surrendering, she could barely control herself. She imagined how Louis's skin would feel against hers, with nothing to impede the rubbing of their bodies. He visualized him, exposed, the firmness of his chest and the vectors of his pelvis pointing towards his member. How bad she wanted him to part her legs with his warm hands and take her like an animal.

That image made her fingers become bolder, sending discharges of pleasure through her body. The moisture that grew between her legs had her almost moaning. It was for him. Yes, for him. Because when she imagined his warm tongue circling around her breasts, she pinched her nipples as if they were his teeth.