He was so warm. Looking at him, you'd think he was made of marble and therefore cold to the touch. But he was so warm, so alive. This close, I can feel his heartbeat.
In the moonlight, he glows. My lips skim that alabaster skin, warming it further. I can taste his pulse quickening. He tries to be silent, he always does, but he soon lets go. I get to the inside of his elbow, and the air from his lungs hisses out between clenched teeth. To drive it further, I flick my tongue out to taste that white skin. The hiss melts into a growl and I smile.
It's always like this; fluid and close and perfect. There's no other who comes close to my blond god.
Sliding up his body, I cannot help pressing as close as I can. His platinum chest hairs slide through my dark ones as I slither up to take his mouth. His taste intoxicates me and I don't want to let it go. Sensing my preoccupation, he wraps his arms around me and turns us so that I am now on my back, and he is the hunter. His long-fingered hands hold me down as he pulls his perfect mouth from mine. In the moonlight, his light, I see his feline smile.
He now glides all over my body, finding my every weakness and exploring them. He lingers at my hips, my neck, my wrists. He takes his time, slowly driving me mad. But every time I sit up to hold him, he presses me back down.
A cloud glides in front of the moon, easily blocking all light and I don't see him go to the bedside drawer. I don't hear the lid to the jar being opened. It isn't until his hands are on me, on my hardness, that I realize what he did.
It's cold, a jarring contrast to his warmth, and I jump. His wicked laugh comes from the darkness and I snarl.
"Soon," he murmurs. "So soon."
His hands warm me, heat me, and soon it almost is like a burn. I ache for him so much, and he knows it. It is my ultimate weakness, he is my ultimate weakness. He moves his hand faster on me until, mindlessly, I rock my hips with that glorious hand.
He stops and I open my mouth to argue but then the cloud shifts and the moonlight returns. I can see him now; he climbs over me and without a word, takes me into him. Initial worry about preparation dies when I realize that he's already prepared. He's hot and tight, and ready.
His legs tighten around my hips and he begins to move. I cannot sit idly by any longer. Sitting up, I take him in my arms and we rock together. Sweat makes us slide against each other in the most alluring way and causes his skin to taste like salt. I trace his collarbone with my tongue and he sighs.
But soon that mouth, like a siren's call, beckons me back. It is like this; our mouths together, our arms around one another, our hips in perfect harmony, when we reach our pinnacle together. I taste his climax at the same time that I feel my own and it is glory; it is magnificence.
It is love.