Quiet. Peace. Love. Serenity.
My eyes flick open lazily, met with the off-white fluff of a borrowed pillow. The only sound is the soft snoring of the body parallel with my own. I don't move. No need to wake him. No need to remove myself from this sleep-laden world I find solstice in. The solitude in unconscious company. I shift my head slightly, just to see if he was up; his back is to me. I think only of how I miss his arms around me.
A stream of light beams in through the gap in his window shade, illuminating long, blond locks. I feel the urge to run my fingers through it, to feel the smoothness against my fingertips. But one arm is under his pillow and the other is tucked under myself, so I stay as I am: naked beneath the sheets with our legs brushing slightly. I can see the nape of his neck, the slight bend of his spine where his shoulders meld into back. His expanse disappears beneath delicate blankets, hiding a broad chest that I know is dotted red and purple from kisses. My kisses. My marking claims to him, sure to linger as angry eggplant for a few days. I can see the sheets shift slightly from steady breathing. Such bliss, waking beside him with memories still fresh in my mind.
The gentleness of his fingers as they traced along my cheek, sliding along my shoulders and down my back. The way his lips molded against mine, tongue probing in a careful curiosity. I could taste the seasonings from dinner- Oddly erotic, surprisingly... Some sort of deep connection, sharing the flavors that lingered on our tongues.
It still echoes in my brain. How he peeled off my shirt, let it drop to the floor, then lifted his arms as I removed his in return; how he slid his fingers along my waistband before goofily struggling to pull jeans past my hips; how he stepped out of his own dropped pants to embrace me tightly against his chest; how he guided me into another kiss as he fumbled with hair falling into our faces; how he stroked my hips when he removed my boxers; how his fingers seemed to search me everywhere.
I remember how his skin was soft to the touch when I dipped my hand into his boxer-briefs, how his throbbing erection followed the cautious curve of my palm as I guarded it from troubling elastic, and how his lips trailed to my neck as he stepped one foot out at a time. I can still feel his hands at my hips, guiding me backwards to his bed, and the chill left when they moved. The way his weight shifted and dipped beside me as he traced up and down my chest, lips claiming my collarbone, my chest, my hips, my-
Uncertainly, though I would like to believe I didn't appear so, I guided him to lie back down to return his favor. I kissed his lips, trailed the pecks and nips down him - his chin, his neck, his chest, his stomach - until I found the base of his cock. My tongue slowly encircled him and I kissed his tip, all before taking him into my mouth. I slid down slowly, trying to take him in as far back into my throat as I could - but his girth was something I wasn't accustomed to.
When I pulled back, I sucked as much as I dared; I was focused on making sure it felt good for him. I bobbed along him, rimming my tongue just beneath his tip and pursing my lips on that same, sensitive area. A low, back-throaty moan floated past his lips and I took that as cue to move faster. Glancing up, I could see his eyes widen and narrow in the throes of pleasure, lips curling whenever I hit just the right spot. Every so often, his hands would find their way to my hair - that is, when they weren't awkwardly grasping the blankets or balled up from tension. I could hear my name murmured past his lips, placed on a struggling breath as he neared completion.
And didn't it hit- A loud moan left him as I felt some vein in his cock twitch against my lips, his cum filled my mouth and quickly slid down my throat. I couldn't say it was the best thing that I'd ever tasted, but I didn't care - it was a byproduct of pleasing him and I was more than happy with that.
But just like that it's like I'm there again, being gently pulled on top of him with a condom pressed tenderly into my palm, his erection back and that sultry playfulness back in his eyes. I can see his eyes watch me, hazy with lust, as I rip the wrapper and unroll the latex along his length. Then, again, his hands ghost over my hips as I adjust myself, fingers just barely tweaking his path so he seamlessly slides deep inside of me. Oh, it felt so good; the way he stretched and filled me was flawless. It was so natural, as if he was built to fit perfectly inside me.
We reveled in this sensation, joined in the most intimate way, for a few brief moments before his hips rolled up to meet mine. My fingers splayed across his chest as I started to rock my hips. A slow, sensuous movement. Up and down. Up and down. Almost slipping out, then sheathed all the way. Gasps and moans filled the air like a symphony, kept low and hissed through tightened throats, with the soft slapping of flesh for a metronome. He grazed his nails along my back, shoulders, and arms. Little lines of enticing red webbed across my flesh. I loved every second of it, begged for more. Harder. Faster. Up and down. Pulled tight against his chest and kept still as he thrust up, giving me exactly what I wanted. I could feel his cock deep within me, especially when I clenched tightly around his shaft.
It happened quickly; he, with his arms still tight around me, rolled us over. My head tucked into his pillow, staring up at him with startled eyes, as he propped himself up over me. My back arched and legs hooked with his - anything to keep the pleasure swelling. My hands grazed over his back and trailed up his neck, connecting behind his head to pull him down. My lips demanded connection and he happily provided it. Teeth clicked against teeth for a confusing moment before tongues entwined once more.
Every jarring thrust slammed his weight into me. Pinned to the bed, my chest was forced empty and left me panting in time to the rhythm he set. When he wasn't kissing me, he'd stare down at me with the most intense expression I'd seen. It was as if he was trying to analyze me, even then, as we made love. As if he was attempting to delve into my psyche while I was at my most open. Always while I was so caught up in his spell, it was all I could do to moan his name and hope he could see the love and adoration for him in my eyes.
And when he neared his limit again, his thrusts grew harder and more random, just before he froze - stopped with his hips ground against mine - and I tensed around him. I could feel it, when he was done, but I kept tightening and relaxing around him, doing my damned best to keep him in me for a little longer because he felt that good. It wasn't until minutes after his sweaty, sticky body had relaxed on top of my own, kisses and tender strokes exchanged, that he reluctantly pulled out and disposed of the condom.
I was at his mercy, pleasurably trapped in the passion of the moment. I was his to do as he pleased. And the better and better I felt, the more and more I was okay with this. If he would always tighten the coils that lied within my gut, sate the fire that burned between my legs, and pledge his lips to only me - I would be simply his and his alone.
Of course, I know that's not all I want from him. I want his body, yes, but I want his mind and heart too. I want all of him to be only mine. When he's sick or hurt, I want to take care of him. If he's having trouble, I want to be able to help him. When he wants to have fun, I want to be the first name on his mind. Because to me, he's worth it.
And as I stare at the back of his head, flushing from memories of our night together, I'm swept up by the love and tenderness that riddled the act - so much that I could never use enough words. I can't say enough how gentle his hands were when he caressed me or how sweet his voice was when murmuring my name. And with this sudden swell of love, I lean towards him, just ever so slightly, and place a soft kiss on the crook of his neck. He's so very, very precious to me. The fullness of that statement hits me when his tired voice croons back,
"Ah~ Bonjour~"