What We Are
What we are is hard to define, and for the first time in my life I don't feel the need to wreck something so perfect with a reductive label. My mind is still stuck on how fucking pretty you were with that little blue dress, and I can't stop thinking that you worn it for me, didn't you?
Because I love your way to provoke me, so falsely innocent and absent minded, teasing me till I just can't help but wanting to ruin you, little girl. When my fingers are so deep inside you, bent over my lap with that cute dress pushed up around your waist, your soaked panties hanging from your ankle, forgotten to our attention. Because you know that that's what you gonna get if you keep on with that attitude, and actually it's what you desire the most, harder than what you want to admit to yourself.
And for the first time I find myself getting all sweaty and steamy on little silly things like knowing that you sleep with my shirt, only that, and I can't sleep if I think how I crave to see your hands drift between your thighs just like mine would. I want to see how wet you are for me little girl, touching yourself 'till the complete consumption of you senses, like a thin shell in the wild ocean weaves.
While you laugh and chat with random guild members I realized that I often found myself looking at you trough the crevices of my helmet, wondering if, in your airy way of being, you even have a clue about how fiery is born the desire to taste every single part of you. Enjoy the shiver that only your skin gives me when it touches mine, like pure sunlight in my bloodstream, lighting up every nerve.
And you look so sweet with those puckered red lips, forming a little cute "o" while you forehead sparkles of little pearls of sweat in the withe moonlight. Rosy cheeks and heavy breathing while my hand is possessively wrapped around your thin neck, pushing myself inside of your perfect body harder and harder, while I bite your shoulder to hold back the deep growls. But that sweetness doesn't really belong to you, little girl and wayward vixen, when I let you take control, enjoy every strangled sigh that comes from my throat, letting full access to my neck, where purple marks blooms thanks of your tender lips. And you play at being "The Grownup", keeping me in the palms of your hands while you whisper husky commands in my ear, your voice corrupted by pure desire, so near I can feel the tickles on my skin
-I'm so close- I told you, clutching to your waist with mighty decision, forcing myself not to reverse the roles and achieve what I desperately wanted, you were having so much fun being the dominant one and, I have to admit, I was having quite the fun too
-Talk to me- I said then, craving your verbal provocations once more and get to that intense pleasure with your wonderful voice as background.
And then you surprised me, as you always do, when I think you can't get any sexier, your naive and perverted way to experience and dare new things amazes me
-Cum for me- you stated, authoritative and commanding, causing me the complete loss of control over my body, only your name dripping from my lips in hoarse growls, marking your waist with fingerprints while I emptied myself into you, towering over my figure, deeply and completely.
And I never told you, but that time you made me cum so hard I started whimpering in an entirely different language.
And it's useless to say that you are not my first but you are definitively the only one, the only one which I dedicated so much devotion. Adoring the way your hard little nipples feels under my rough hands, sensitive and delicate, bringing the need to close my mouth around them, tracing abstract circles on the milky skin of your soft breasts. I love your trembling breaths, inhaling deeply in a desperate need of air, wrapping your legs around my waist, begging for more, more. Always more.
And I reply the sweet sound of your moans in my head for days afterwords.
Because I realized that it doesn't exist a better way to wake up than the one done upon your figure, a hand forgotten between your legs and nose buried in the crook of your neck, you yawn adorably, cuddling up your warm and soft body a little more to me causing your smell to mix with mine in a unique and cozy perfume of home.
Yes I belong to you, to you that I've never even imagined, reckless and smart-ass little girl. When everything started for fun becoming the most profound feeling that ever shook me. And yes, you make me a desperate, in a way that I've never been and it cause me a little shame but I couldn't care less, drunk of pleasure and wide eyed by the depth of intimacy we attain, so much more than merely physical. Curled one next to each other night by night, whispering memories and silly things that we never imagined to share with someone, and then falling at sleep with a light heart.
And I don't want to find a definition for us, because we don't need it, we hold hands in that space between honest complicity and perpetual attraction and I just can't repress the excitement of making you try everything, everything that life has to offer, but only with me.
Because I think we belong together little girl, and we realized that way to late, and sometimes I'm afraid that the selfishness that intoxicates me will never let you walk away from my sight, even when you'll want to, now that you are all mine, now that the idea of letting somebody the full possession of my soul, for once, doesn't bother me at all.
Nina's Spot:
Hello everybody! This time I don't really know what to say, just that a lot of little phrases on Tumblr inspired this introspective Bixanna from Bickslow point of view. They are a couple that I honestly love, maybe even a little more that the most popular ones, I don't know why, they just have it all: The sexiness, the dorky sarcastic attitudes and the right amount of depth that makes their relationship so beautiful and I just can't...
Anyway, hope you enjoy it, I apologies for some errors, I'm deeply sorry but English is not my first language and trying to write in it is a way of learning for me.
Big kisses
Nina