Title: Glorious Torture Penname: Writtenbyabdex Fan Fiction Profile URL: .net/u/2018237/ Rating: NC17 Genre:AH Content descriptor:ANGST/FLUFF
As a challenge for myself because im a fade to black kind of girl, i wanted to see if i could write 1 thing of fluffly lemon/smut.
let me know if i succedded! Read, Review, and share...
Glorious Torture
I feel my nerves explode and come to life as his touch ghosts over my skin. I concentrate on the tingling feeling and my thoughts follow as the electrical energy flows from one nerve ending to the next.
I feel the pads of his fingers move slowly across my eyebrows and eyelids, around my temples. His hands touch and caress my checkbones. Their softness meander over my lips. I keep my breath steady.
His fingers float to the tip of my chin, down the middle of my throat slowly, tortuously to the hollow at the base of my throat between my collarbones. I can feel his lips touch the side of my neck, and although my body wants to react, I hold it at bay.
Soothingly, he lingers around my breasts, never truly reaching their center. Anticipation builds and my body tightens, holding a breath, waiting for his touch which seems hesitant to come.
It's torture, but it's glorious, as the pull of his fingers work along my abdomen, gliding their way towards the crease of my hips and legs. His fingers tread lightly along the valley and the pressure from his hands increases as he grabs my hips, forcing them not to move. My body arcs, refusing to lie still. My body begs him to touch areas that have been dormant for too long.
Teasingly, he strokes my inner thigh and mentally I beg him for more afraid to speak. His hands move to the outsides of my legs. H drags his fingers to my knee's. He tenderly spreads my legs.
"Please," I whisper, wanting so much more than his touch.
His lips touch the insides of my thighs as he lifts my knees, allowing my feet to settle flat on the mattress. I feel my body heat and the wetness that will increase the ease his entrance, as he prepares me for what I know is to come.
I feel his tongue caress my folds and the movement of his breath as he steadies himself. He tastes how wet I am. Against my will, my hips rock as I feel the pressure of his tongue, then gentle sucking of his mouth on me.
I shake my head, no. No, because I want more of what he offers. I know how good he can be. I hear the echo of his soft laugh. It's not going to be easy to get what I want, because this is exactly what I want. I want his teasing touch. I want him to linger over my body and not give in. I want it to last forever. I want this sweet, glorious torture, but then I want more too.
His hands soothe the tension from my calves as he positions me to where he wants me. When his hands reach my ankles, he guides my body to turn onto my stomach.
He begins his ascent of my body, tickling and kissing the backs of my knees and thighs, to the junction of my legs, and my butt. He kneads my flesh, moving his body to cover mine. I feel the heat of our bodies rise.
It's about how he uses every inch of his body to call me out to mine, and the intimacy we share. The feeling that defines two individuals as it disappears and the two become one. It's about heat and passion and love.
I feel the weight of him increase as his body moves up and above me. His hands press against the small of my back and he kisses the spot below my tailbone. His kisses are deliberate as they move up my spine to the base of my neck, where he lingers before whispering in my ear.
"Tell me."
He rolls me to the side with my back pressed tightly against his chest. His fingers are once again free to explore, as are mine. My hand finds the nape of his neck, and I clutch his hair tightly as in answer.
"You. I want to feel you."
His fingers pinch and tease my clit, wet from their exploration of my body. He presses his fingers against me and whispers again.
"Beg."
The roughness of his hands makes the sensation unbearable. I want to feel more. I need to feel more. I need to feel his as an extension of my nervous system.
"Please. Please,." I beg.
My hips rotate, trying to retrieve the power he has over me, but he removes his hand and chastises me by flicking where I ache. I beg a second time.
He rolls me onto my back, his hands never leaving my heated skin, and positions himself in front of me. With his hands on my hips, he takes the lead and pulls me to himself, but he doesn't give me the pressure I desire. My body shakes and quivers. I need to feel him, his pressure. I need more.
"Please. I'm yours, take me."
As he takes me, claiming my body, I give him all of myself. I will give him everything if he will take me.
He's slow and gentle although his hands are rough on my hips. He waits for me to stretch and accept him, before he becomes demanding and unrelenting. He varies between being tender and sweet, too rough and demanding, until my body screams as if it has a voice.
I find release as the pressure at my center becomes excruciating. He moves harder and faster as I beg him for more. I give him control and become his willing follower as he reaches the height of his climax.
Watching his eye's dilate, and his body becomes rigid, I follow quickly behind. My body goes limp with pleasure and his weight crashes down on me, only intensify what I already feel.
When I open my eyes to watch him quiver, his reaction for giving me everything, I see nothing but a vacant space. His touch is so ingrained into my being, he doesn't even need to be here for me to feel him. I roll to my side and bury my face into the pillows and sheets, only to realize they no longer smell of him.
He's been a ghost for the past four months now, after sixteen years of marriage.