Assignment 2
One of your couple is hiding something. The guilt is eating them alive. It leaks into everything, bleeds into a moment of passion, of love. They try to lose themselves in the moment, the pleasure, but they can't.
Extra credit: Write your lemon without the use of graphic words: cock, penis, vagina, hole, pussy, insert, etc. Try to write the act with emotion rather than play by play description.
Colder Weather
I can do this, I tell myself although I can feel my heart breaking with every word. There is no way this can ever work. I had responsibilities that I couldn't shirk from. I couldn't keep hiding from them. I had to let him go, even if I would run away with him if I could.
He nuzzled against my neck before sucking on the sweet spot behind my ear. That one simple action was usually enough to bring me to my knees, but I was so caught up in what I had to do that I couldn't focus on him or what his hands and lips were doing. I had to tell him I was leaving, that I loved him but it could never work. I had to go home where I belonged and he needed to as well. We couldn't keep putting this off. He was convinced though that we could do this. He would do anything for me. No one had ever loved anyone quite like he loved me.
I knew that, so how could I be denying that? I was scared yes, but that wasn't the worst of it. I had talked him into this night. After our affair three years ago he hadn't wanted anything to do with me. I had broken his heart then and I was fixing to do it again. I was terrible. How could I be doing this to someone I claimed to love? Love made you do crazy things.
He pulled me against him, so that our bodies were flush and I could feel every hard line of his body as my own molded to his form. This was right, I thought. This was everything I would ever need. Screw my sense of duty and honor and a family who didn't care about me and a husband who didn't love me. I wanted this. I wanted his arms wrapped around my waist and his lips whispering sweet nothings in my ear. I never wanted to walk out of that door and leave him but that was exactly what I was going to do. I was going to make love to him, my lover and keeper of my soul, one last time before I slipped away before he woke.
"I love you," he whispered sweetly, before he lifted my shirt over my head. I burrowed my head into his shoulder and tried to lose myself in the way he touched me. Always gently, always reverently, like something to cherished and worshiped. I bit my lip to keep from sobbing. I didn't deserve it. I used him just as a druggie used heroine to get high. I was a terrible excuse for a person and he deserved better. I was just too much of a coward to admit it with words.
He pushed me back so that I was laying against the bed and began a slow exploration of my unclothed body. I knew everything his tongue, lips, and fingers could make me do. I knew that when he kissed and nipped right there I would moan or sigh. I knew that when he trailed his fingers over the most intimate part of my skin I would sigh and arch forward into him. When we were connected it was like our souls were one. We knew what the other needed and wanted. Together we were unstoppable.
This time though, it didn't feel like that. I tried, I really did. I wanted to love him this one last time and feel him love me. I wanted the safety—the peace—that came from being in his arms. I wanted to be open and vulnerable to him but I couldn't. I knew what was coming, I knew what I was going to do to him, and the guilt was killing me.
I could feel the knot in my stomach like a heavy lead weight. It kept me from melting into his embrace and wrapping my fingers around his silky hair. I bit my lip, not to hold in a moan like I would have, but to not let out a whimper of pain. He was so focused on showering devotion on my chest that he didn't notice that I kept my gaze focused on the ceiling and didn't respond to his gentle lips ministrations. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to let my tears fall. I couldn't do this, I just couldn't.
Before I could force myself to any action, before I could make up my mind and decide what I needed or wanted, he lifted his head and stared at me with his honest, all knowing gaze. I was captivated—trapped—within them, unable to look away. He traced a line from my brow to my chin and I couldn't help leaning into his hands.
"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, his voice that similar, musical cadence that still had the power to make me weak in the knees.
I took a deep breath and shrugged. "No, I'm fine," I lied, pleased to find my voice didn't shake and give me away. I had gotten too good at lying. I threaded my fingers through his hair and watched his eyes roll back as I toughed gently. The easy gesture reminded me of when things were so simple between us, when I didn't hide things from him. I wanted that back. I wanted that easy connection, that effortless romance that we had. I didn't want to leave him in the morning. I wanted to be open and honest with him. I wanted my one last night of fairytale.
So, here was my decision, I was going to forget it all for one night. I wasn't leaving in the morning—I was staying right here, forever. I was going to make myself believe that anyway. If I was going to break his heart again then I was going to make it worth it. I took a deep breath and focused on him, here, now, his arms around me, enfolding me into his embrace. I was going to stay here in the present. I forced down the hot ball of lead in my stomach and brought his face down toward mine. Our kiss was gentle and unhurried, or that was the way he would have liked it. I wanted him to claim me, to own me. He wanted slow and passionate. He wanted to love me. I didn't know if I could handle my composer through that. I wanted it and didn't want it.
He pulled away, that delicious smirk still on his face that I loved so much. "Slow down, baby." He kissed my nose and sighed. "We've got all night."
He sounded happy and in love. My heart was stuck in my throat and tears filled my eyes. I couldn't do this I just couldn't. The thought of leaving now hurt more. I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, hoping he would chalk the tears up to his sweet words.
It seemed he did and kissed me again, this time slowly, and I melted underneath him. I gave up and let him love me one last time. His lips and fingers explored my body, relearning the curves they once knew so well.
I tried to relax and achieved it for the most part. He had always been able to relax me, to love me, and I needed that. I blocked everything out but the sensation of him and his fingers. I was able to do it. I returned his kisses and the exploring touches although I was still more hurried than he was. He would just chuckle and slow me down. It allowed me to believe that this was just us.
The fantasy was lost when he joined us intimately. I gasped in shock and locked my muscles. It came flooding back. I was no better than a common slut, using him to get my own pleasure and then leaving him. He would hate me after this. No, no, no, I had to stop thinking. This was what I wanted, what I needed. One more night like we used to spend, tangled in sheets and skin.
He felt how my body stiffened and didn't move. He whispered into my ear to tell me to relax and much he loved me. It just made me feel even guiltier, but I told my body not to listen to my heart. It would only lead me astray like it already had time and again by allowing me to fall in love with him at all. I forced my limbs to loosen and wrap around him instead. I nodded my head, encouraging him to continue, but not saying a word. I kept my eyes tightly closed as well, shut myself off from him.
I felt his lips against my lips, my chin, fluttering against my eyelids. I bit my lip so hard I almost broke skin. I could feel the hot tears leaking out from under me eyes and I didn't want to sob as well. I let my fingers loosely trial into the hair at the base of his neck and shook as he moved inside me. I was going to enjoy this. I wasn't going to ruin everything we had had, all the wonderful memories I had of us, with this.
He was slow and gentle, relishing ever movement. His lips never broke contact with my skin and his hands held me tightly against his body. I used to love this. His hold was strong but not overbearing, protective without being smothering. Now though, it was too much. Every brush of his fingertips against my overheated skin was a reminder that I didn't need of just how far he would go for me, how much he would do for me. This wasn't just a casual experience for him. It had taken me a week to get him here because he knew what we always did to each other.
I muffled a sigh or a sob and buried my face in his neck, his body now covering mine completely. At once I loved the closeness and hated it. I had missed this but there was something still missing. My heart and head weren't in it. My body was, there was a curling ache developing in my stomach beside the knot of guilt. My mind was consumed though by what we were doing and what I was going to do.
He kissed my ear and stilled his movements. My body didn't like that but my heart heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe he had caught onto my plans and was going to make me leave. I wouldn't have deserved anything less.
"Baby," he whispered sweetly into my ear and I felt my heart break a little bit more. "What's wrong? You're fine, you know. I've got you. It's going to be okay. Just calm down."
I gasped, panting for breath and tried to find the words to answer him all the while knowing I was going to have to lie him. "I know." I nodded as I pulled my face away so that it was no longer hidden in his shoulder. I wanted to hide but I knew that would just make him more suspicious. He would be able to read my face, he always could, but what other choice did I have? "I'm fine. I'm okay, really. I'm just not used to this anymore. My husband usually just pumps a couple times and is done. I've missed you."
He eyes darkened at the mention of my un-significant other but my honest confession at the end was enough to clear it away. He kissed me, eyes closing at the sheer enormity of everything and I wished I could have joined him in that. He rocked his hips and began again and could feel not only the waves of pleasure lapping at me but the strength of the emotions that propelled him. The latter was the more powerful of the two. He loved me, always had, and always would. He would do anything for me, even let me break his heart time and again. That wasn't what I wanted though. I wanted the pleasure. The pleasure would make me forget, even if momentarily. It was awful, I was a terrible person. How could I be doing this? I waged an internal battle with myself and in the process lost the war. I could no more hide from him than I could hide from myself.
I felt him give a last jittery thrust and climax inside of me, my name on his lips. I managed to find some release but it wasn't complete, half-hearted at best because it couldn't return the emotion that had fueled it.
He fell asleep whispering sweet nothings in my ear, expecting me to be there in the morning and I cried. I didn't sleep. I just pressed myself as close to him as I could get all night.
Just before the dawn could make its way through the windows I pulled away from him and found my scattered cloths. With one last look at his sleeping, peaceful form I walked out the door knowing I would never see him again.
A.N. My god this one was a bitch to write. She just wouldn't shut up. I'm not really sure I'm happy with it but its what I've got. If you're wondering where Colder Weather came from it's a Zac Brown Band song. I'm gonna go find a stiff drink now.