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I trace my eyes over the ivory sheets, the crisp purity yet to be rippled, the cool silk yet to be heated. He wanted this to be special, as if there is a single night that he can be next to me and the world isn't ecstasy. I know he isn't quite convinced of that yet, that there's further to go in showing him that he needn't do a thing to impress me, to make himself improved for me. He's the most perfect thing I have ever been near, and there will never be a time when he'll need to try to please me. That's for tomorrow though, and the resumed row of ordinary moments that will follow after. Tonight is this, as I place our small bags next to the opulent wardrobe, enclosing his prayer mat and the sparse clothes I had allowed him to bring. He wanted to treat me, and as I turn to look at his radiant face, I am not going to stop him.
I've done hotels before, rooms for the hour, the ones who were worth more than a quick fuck in the back room of a dark club but not enough for a long night in my real bed. I'm not ashamed of it, I don't regret it, but it almost takes my breath how far away I am now from it. The scent of this place is different, it's like I can smell it. The beauty, the attention, the sensual decadence that wraps through it, it's more than sight, I can feel it. The luxury of the open fire, resting flames ready to lick through early hours of want and soothed chill, soft golden lighting that cloaks our haven in unending candle glow, all dancing with ardour to frame the fantasy clad indulgence of a crimson draped, four poster bed. And him…standing next to it with that expectant, nervous smile, telling me he is entirely mine and all he has is for me.
I rush my hand along the nape of his neck and pull his curling lips into mine, revelling in the little sigh that hums through my cheeks as he falls into my kiss.
"It's gorgeous Sy," I whisper into his wavering, parted lips.
"Really?" he says, stroking his fingertips hopefully along the edge of my face.
"Really."
"I thought the four poster or the fire place might be a bit much…but I thought you'd like – "
"I love it," I breathe, stopping any further doubting words with the crush of my mouth on his.
The slight edge of hands wrapping the slim of his back, we stumble blindly onto the velvet cushioning of the bed. The fall of his body barely breaks the kiss, mine instantly covering his as my mouth widens, heady on the taste of his wet heat. The unwanted cloth on my skin is being dragged above my neck, his hands smoothing along the curve of my arms, nails gripping the breadth of my shoulders.
His top is stripped from him, my lips trailing the freed skin of his chest, my hands sightlessly dragging the leather of his belt, sliding the trap of his zip. Impatiently, I pull his covered legs around me, the barrier of the denim teasing him into tightening the grip of his thighs, throwing his head into the pillow at the drag of the rub.
"Hard," he moans, the craze of my mind racing at all that it says.
"I know baby," I murmur into him.
"No…I mean…" he says, wriggling free from my hold "…something's hard, under my…"
Leaning up to let him move, I try to gain my breath and normal thought as, confused, I watch him rummage beneath his head.
"A welcome chocolate," he beams, holding out his hand to impishly display the evidence of an innocently small, squashed wrapper.
My head dips in a grin as I see his mouth curl widely, a gorgeous free laugh leaving him. Playfully, I grab the offending interruption and throw it in banishment to the side of the room, batting away cries of mock disapproval and uncontrolled mirthful giggles.
Turning back to him, I find myself halting at the sight. The dark oak beams towering above, the sexual red of curtains draping thick, ardent framing around the bed, he lays there, lustful heat flushing his lean chest, teeth gently biting his curling plumped lips, looking up at me with a shimmer in his eyes that reflects utter happiness. He could not look more beautiful.
I kiss his smiling lips, slow, his hands reaching up to stroke the line of my spine, pulling me back down to him.
"Now where were we…"
XXXXX
His naked back curves into my wet chest and I am convinced there is nowhere in existence I would rather be. The stretched lengths of my legs wrap his, firm thighs locking around the groove of his hips, calves gently entwining, threading a secret stroke under the water's depth.
I adore the feel of his soaking skin on mine, how it elevates a blissful touch to something else. There is an intimacy in the damp cement of wet flesh on stripped skin, a sensuality in the heat of steam, of quiet dampened rest. To lay with him, is like heightened calm.
We have been here for a while, I'm unsure when it began. Some time ago I suppose, as my eyes trace his soft skin, grooved with the prune like ridge of a million perfect imperfections, glowing in the candle flicker. It's almost silent, but for the shallow murmur of his breaths, the minimal splash that comes from sporadic wriggle between wet and marble.
My arms drape him, holding him in place as if with the lock of my thighs and the constraint of the porcelain, he could move if he so desired. I sigh on a smile at the sound of the contented little murmur he releases as I tighten my grasp.
"We should get a bath," I say, stroking a thumb slowly on his heated forearm, my free fingers tracing the path of his wet chest, playing with the matted scattering of teasing hair.
"I don't think we have the room," he tells me, breaking the news with the press of his wave wrapped head into my collar bone.
"We'll just get rid of the kitchen then," I murmur on his heat bumped shoulder skin, adoring the way his soaked slicked hair bares his features for me. Cravingly, I drag my lips on the sensuality of him when stripped, taking his scent of soap and musty steamed salt.
"I don't think that's very practical Christian. Besides – " he hitches, waiting for the faint splash as my hand slides down the damp of his soft chest dip, finding its way, slowly, to the sensitive stomach skin, "it makes these occasions all the more…enjoyable."
Circled in the gasping flicks of candle light, I can almost see his lids grow heavy, hear his heart fluster under strained pleasured, moaning breaths. The heat licks on the reflection of the steamed wall glass, and I kiss the soaking beauty of his neck.
XXXXX
The ornate metal of the dressing mirror props against the wall, and I adjust the line of my collar neck, shape it to satisfaction. We both brought one change of clothes, the few hours of the evening when I wanted him to be dressed, to be in a room with someone other than me.
He is still not ready, wandering half-dressed with wayward hair, each ruffle so perfect as if ordered in lack of place. Meticulously flattening the silk on my abdomen, my heart dips at the reflection of him, perfect in restricted formal trousers and the freedom of bare chest.
I could take him to the restaurant like that, without the slightest doubt. Syed likes the sensuality of imagination though, and I consider it, as I give the final preens to my complete dress. I smile, satisfied at the sight of that crisp black shirt that covers everything, but by the licentious darkening of his widened eyes, I knew was the most sexual drape he had ever seen before he could even bring himself to utter the words.
My thoughts are broken as I sense warm hands snake my hips, lips pressing slow kisses to the breadth of my back. The naturalness of our merged reflection holds my gaze, his body swathed behind mine. "You look so sexy," he murmurs, and I feel the curl of his smile through the cloth.
"I was thinking similar thoughts myself…" I say, low, trailing my eyes down his half-naked form, "I very much approve of the outfit choice."
He laughs, flushing.
"It'd be an interesting take on formal dining wouldn't it…are you trying to get us thrown out?"
The image of his lithe hand resting on a white draped table fills me, my fingers entwining his with a leisurely stroke. I see candle glow reflecting in flickering eyes, feel my lips coax his to open as we wait.
"Only once I've watched you eat the deathliest chocolate cake they can find," I say low, holding his gaze in the glass. It reflects us back to me.
XXXXX
The yellow flicks of the fire dance and I watch the reflection of our heat on his skin. It glows like burning rose, his breaths entrancing shallow in the cover of flames and soft sweat. My chest pressed to the curve of his heated spine, we lay, his body wrapped in mine. A single sheet rests on the floor beneath us, a bed of stripped simplicity all we need. His scrunched locks, dishevelled in dark crumple, drape a single arranged cushion, the flushed colouring of his cheek deep against the ivory of the cloth.
I am caught with the feel of him, there is nothing to senses but his dazing glow. It is as if each nerve is laced to the intoxication of his smell, the mesmeric ecstasy of unadulterated touch. He looks at me sometimes, like he has never been held in this way, as if he has never felt as he does when my arms caress him, when his naked skin gives itself to my resting touch. He looks at me like no other has held him like this because any other has not, as I breathe in the melded scent of him, I know he is not alone in that. The tingle of my skin pressed with the heat of his, I could be this forever.
Sensing his quiet twist on a gentle murmur, I stroke my fingers down the smooth of his bared chest, his warmed body making the slightest turn to find my eyes.
"Shall we go back to bed?" he breathes, the slow close of his thick lashes betraying a satiated smile.
The glow of fire wrapping the hushed air, in slowness, I drag the edge of my nose into the velvet heat of his scented neck.
"In a little while…"