ELEVEN
My moans bounced off the shimmering walls, the sounds of pleasure remaining within the confines of the room.
His hands moved down my naked body, stable warm fingers swept along the curves of my breasts and waist. The wetness from his mouth was drying on the side of my neck by the time his lips touched the bony protrusions of my hip bones.
My hips lifted, pulled towards his touch, desperate for the pleasure he could provide, while the back of my head pressed into the mattress, the arching movement proceeding slowly through my yearning body.
I was acutely aware of every brush of his body against mine. Every time the dark hairs on his thighs brushed against the sensitive skin of my own thighs, having small bursts of electricity trickle through me.
Like two highly charged entities, there were (almost) literal sparks whenever - and wherever - our bodies came into physical contact.
His feelings of desire - his lust - was throbbing inside of my body, just like I knew my own was resonating inside of him. The knowledge alone that he was completely naked, that he was touching me intimately, that he could make me come with a puff of breath against some highly enticed areas, was highly erotic to me.
Knowing that he had such power over me and still decided to not abuse that power, was arousing. I had given my body up to him, to his ministrations and his love, and it was beautiful how he decided to cherish it. How his main focus was to give me pleasure.
In the end, my pleasure was his. And his pleasure was mine. It truly was a win-win situation.
My moan was disrupted by my gasp as his fingers suddenly touched me intimately. I felt his lust-filled eyes on my face, saw my own flushed face with closed eyes through the image projected into his mind, as he inched one finger inside of me.
Having him move his finger in and out of me in that slow rhythm that imitating the actual act of lovemaking was almost more seductive and sensual than actual intercourse. This way his focus was completely on me, his eyes watching every small nuanced movement on my face, his ears drinking the sounds from my mouth, his free hand on the curve of my waist soaking up every tremble and quake of my pulsating body, without his attention being distracted by his own pleasure. This way he was changing his touch in response to the noises I made, changing the pace according to the movement of my hips.
Adding a second finger, he leaned forward over my abdomen to trail slow and deliberate kisses along the midline of my stomach. His fingers loved me at a faster pace as his lips enclosed my nipple, his tongue flickering the engorged tissue, and rather expectantly bringing my orgasm crashing into my body like an electric storm. My walls contracted convulsively around his fingers while I fisted the sheet in my hands.
Slowly, I landed in reality, my hips lowering to the solidity of the mattress, Max slowly removing his fingers from my heated core.
I could still feel the warmth from the energy cap Max was keeping alive across the opening to my cervix. It was not much, only a subtle pleasurable warmth. I had come to realize that the warmth was magnified in the moment of climax, working to immediately remind me of our secondary objective in doing this.
Birth control.
But keeping the protection up during my release had proved to not be a problem. At that point, Max was always incredibly in tune with what was happening to me, in his attempt to guide me to the most explosive orgasms, that his control over the energy protecting my cervix was kept intact.
The problem was his own orgasm. Our 'results' concerning that problem had been worryingly inconsistent. Sometimes it worked, most times it didn't. The energy from his own release disrupted everything, made him lose control of his abilities in general - if only for a couple of seconds. But that could be enough.
Apparently, sperm can move through the cervix within seconds. Great if you want to get pregnant. Not so great if you don't.
I had also come to realize that us not reaching climax together meant that I fell apart with my own release while his desire kept throbbing in my body, preventing me from completely reaching the ultimate peak of pleasure.
"Was that good?"
His question had me blink my eyes open, my heart still pounding in my chest, sweat pearling on my forehead.
"Uh-huh," I breathed, the breaths shallow and extremely audible in my voice.
"A+?" he asked.
I caught the mischievous wink, the sexy curl to his mouth.
A giggle wanted to break free, but my lungs were still dumbfounded by the attempt to produce a couple of pathetic gasping sounds. I settled for two thumbs up, my arms trembling with the effort.
Max Evans had a way to relax my whole body.
I stared up at the white ceiling, trying to regain function over my cooked spaghetti body, because even though Max wasn't urging me on to 'help him out', his body was.
Through the connection his unfulfilled lust was escalating and searing through me. Rapidly, my own body was responding, coming back to life, greedy for more.
Pushing up on my elbows, I looked at him seated next to my hips. My gaze briefly brushed over my own naked body, exposed without neither concealing sheets nor covering postures. I was completely comfortable with Max. He made me that way. Made me feel proud and secure in my body.
Momentarily, my memory brushed on the image of myself - standing naked in front of a full figure mirror - before meeting Max that night ages ago, to lose my virginity to him. I sharply remember my thoughts of inadequacy and my bad body image.
That was all gone by now. Max made me feel like a goddess. With the help of the connection, I could verify that he was true to both his words and actions. I could see how amazing I looked through his eyes. How attractive I was to him. How much he wanted me. All the time.
Every woman should get that boost of confidence.
Next, my eyes were on him. On his bronzy skin. On his well-toned chest. On the thickness of his thighs. I could see his need for me and I could feel how the concentrated lust in that one place bordered on painful. His dark hair was tousled, which was probably my doing. He hadn't shaved in two days, which resulted in a present sexy shadow of short stubble across the lower part of his well-chiseled face.
My heart beat faster looking at him. He made every cell of my body contract and scream with pleasure. If I was his goddess, he was my god. It was as simple as that.
Catching not only my eyes but also my thoughts, he started to crawl up to me, hands and knees sinking slowly into the mattress with every seductive movement.
The pace of my breaths - which had just started to slow down - rapidly increased with his slow approach. I could smell his masculine scent in the air as he leaned over me, his presence making me move to lay down again.
Straddling my hips with one of his muscular legs, he wrapped his arm around my waist, his hand pressing between my shoulder blades to press my upper body against his and thus semi-draping his body over mine.
His breath fluttered over my face, the weight of his body intimate and enticing, his eyes dark as cocoa.
I barely had time to fully sink into the feeling of his bare skin against mine before his lips caught mine in a deep kiss. His hand stroked between my shoulder blades, down to the small of my back, down to grab my butt cheek, before moving up again. His hand made the same journey over and over again, while his lower body moved against me.
His breaths were loud, partially drowning in the breath-stealing kisses. He wanted to embed himself inside of me. His need to do so was overwhelming. But we couldn't. Not yet. It was too risky, our birth control method not yet reliable.
We both longed for that moment. We had a lot of fun doing everything outside of actually joining, but it was not the same. Our bodies and minds were starving for the energetic bond - for the intimate closeness - that joining sexually gave us.
I admired his control. He had previously 'lost' to the connection - making love to me when he knew that we shouldn't because we didn't have any protection - but he wasn't going to let that happen again. The push from the connection was just as strong, if not stronger, than it had been in those instances, yet Max resisted.
I was hoping I was helping somewhat in that respect. Trying to hold myself back. Not leading him on too much. Give him strength to slow down if he needed to. Basically, most of the times it was only a matter of pressing my thighs together when he felt like he wanted entrance.
In this frustrated dance of lust and control, we amazingly enough managed to find some kind of middle ground where we could enjoy each other's bodies and explore the true deep love we had for each other.
This is where we found ourself with my hand reaching down to move my fingers lightly up his engorged member, hearing his breaths hitch in my ear, his hand grabbing my ass again.
In the midst of the passion and the excitation, I was aware of the tingling warmth around my cervix. I would be able to feel it wavering - I had done so before - and this was the part of our lovemaking when Max had lost control of the makeshift birth control before.
My palm closed around him and I caressed him closer to the edge. I loved touching him like this. Loved to bring him pleasure just as much as he loved to bring me over the edge. His lips were on my breast, on my collarbone, at my neck, on my lips. He was close. The whole time.
I climaxed at least four times while pleasuring him, his pleasure feeding straight into my body. I had no idea how he could control himself, how he managed to drag it out.
But eventually he let go. With the height of his orgasm, my cervix temporarily chilled, before it warmed anew with Max's directed energy. At that moment, I knew we had failed. Again.
Our shallow breaths were the only sounds in the room afterwards. My eyes were fixed on a spot on his chest, right above his dark brown nipple, and I could feel the disappointment fusing into me. Max had it worse than me. I had the luxury of enjoying my orgasms, whereas Max's were always tainted with the realization that our only means of birth control had (yet again) fallen short.
"Are you okay?" I whispered against his chest.
He was beating himself up, sinking quickly into self-blame.
"Not really," he answered truthfully. His voice was strained and he felt so far away. Even with him lying right next to me.
"We'll figure it out," I said quietly, doodling small invisible circles on his skin with my finger.
A silent moment passed before he moved his arm from a position over his head to instead wrap around my shoulders and pull me closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
"Yeah," he agreed, even though there was no conviction of this in his mind.
"Love you," I whispered, wanting him to know that no matter what happened, he was still the best person I knew. He was still my hero.
"Love you," he answered back, almost automatically, his thoughts miles away.
He was already trying to figure out what he could do different. Did he need another type of energy concentration? Should he use some kind of shockwave of energy inside me right after he came, to kill off the sperm? Quickly, he abolished that idea, frightened that it might hurt me somehow.
Nevertheless, his thoughts made me think of something and I lifted my head off his chest to look up at him. He was staring into the dim room with unseeing eyes.
"Maybe that's the problem," I mumbled, contemplatively.
"What is?" he asked, shifting to look down at me.
"That you are trying to work out how you can fix this," I pointed out.
He was slowly inching into my mind - probably without knowing he was doing so - to find out where my line of thinking was going.
"What do you mean?" he asked, catching a strand of my hair and rolling it lightly between his fingertips.
I raised up on one elbow. "Everything else we have been trying to do separately - when it comes to the connection - hasn't seemed to work that well. Mostly it has meant that we haven't been able to use our full capacity. But as soon as we-"
"-have worked together…" Max filled in, a light of hope flashing in his eyes, leaving the obvious conclusion unsaid.
Perhaps we should be doing this together. Perhaps Max should teach me how to feed into that energy cap protecting my cervix. That way he wouldn't be alone in sustaining it. It would have a failsafe. Me.
"Because you have great control when I…" I blushed, "…let go…" I was still unused to discussing our intimate activities out loud.
"Maybe you have great control when I come," Max finished, the hopeful light surrounding a kid on Christmas morning coming to life in his eyes, not caring that he was using completely different speaking terms than I was. Max was not foreign to using any words he wanted to.
I smiled, a wide and engulfing smile. "You know what that means?"
He read my answer before I could stop him, but he humored me by asking, "What?", possibly wanting me to say it out loud.
I grinned. "More practicing."
He rolled his eyes, shook his head, in a feigned tired feeling of 'Oh no, not more practicing!'.
Giggling, I worked myself up his body, trying to ignore how my body responded to his as my nipples brushed against his chest, and melted our lips together. Empathically, I said, "I love you."
He lightly caressed my cheek, ran the tip of his thumb along my bottom lip, his eyes telling me the reciprocal before his mouth did, "Forever."
We laid there in silence for a couple of minutes before I broke it by declaring, "Good thing that George taught you how to soundproof the room."
Amused, he said, "A good thing. A very good."
