Was I actually kissing Sheldon? Sheldon Cooper? I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, felt the delicate way he explored it with his tongue. How did he know how to do this? I felt my breathing start to deepen, I felt my mind start to wander in that way it did when I was really turned on. Turned on by Sheldon? What was happening? Sure, he was good looking, he had those incredible blue eyes, so light and pale in the sun or bright light, darker and nearly green in dimly lit rooms. Sure, he had those long exquisite fingers, which at this very moment were trailing over my neck and trailing down to the edge of my gown. I could feel his weight on me, crushing in such a good way. I could feel the slight circular motion of his hips as his hand curved behind the back of my neck and he nibbled on my ear, causing such a chill to race up my spine.
What was I doing?
But had I done it? No, I didn't think I did. He did this. He climbed on top of me and started kissing me.
The wine I had drank helped. I could relax and feel the way his hands cupped my breasts through the thick shiny material of the gown I wore. I could feel the way his tongue flicked against my tongue, I could hear the deepness of his breathing, the gasps of breaths between kisses. I could trail my fingers through his short hair, feeling each smooth strand.
I'd always thought Sheldon didn't have a deal, and if he did I thought he might be...I didn't know. Maybe gay. But he never seemed to show any interest in anyone. Least of all me. But was that true? As I sighed and felt his mouth traveling from my ear lobe down my neck, so gently, just the slightest whisper of pressure against the side of my neck, the chill racing down to my toes. I thought about the day I met him, the shy way he said hi and looked down, almost hiding behind Leonard. I thought of the way he stood next to that crazy board of equations and the way his eyes lit up when I asked him if he was one of those beautiful mind guys. He was flirting with me that day, even if he didn't know it.
"Sheldon..." I said, barely breathing his name. Did I want him to stop? I didn't think so, it felt too good, like he knew just how to touch me and just how much pressure to apply, he knew things, more things than I had ever given him credit for.
He only murmured in response to his name, and I wondered just how drunk he was. I knew he hardly ever drank alcohol. I knew what tended to happen to him when he did. He'd get out of control and behave in a way that was out of character. Did I want that to happen? Is that why I handed him that glass of wine and then another? Did I want to see if I could make him take any part of that suit off? Did I secretly want him to ravage me? He was the unobtainable one, always lost in all his equations.
His hand was resting on my knee under my dress, and I hoped he'd move it up further and I was afraid he would. How far would he go? How far was I willing to let him go? Right now, the wine tingling up my bloodstream, the reasoning center of my brain feeling a bit off kilter, I felt willing to let him go all the way. In these type of situations I was usually the one in control, but now, with his hand steadily moving from my knee up my thigh, I felt deliciously out of control.
Leonard could come home at any moment, my boyfriend Leonard. The thought filled me with a panic that only heightened the feeling of Sheldon's hand against my nerve endings, it only heightened the soft feeling of his tongue against mine, it only heightened the sensation of his breath against my exposed skin.
I squirmed under Sheldon's weight, and he moved somehow with and against me, and he pinned my wrists down on his bed and kissed me with more force, and when I twisted my wrists in his grasp he tightened up ever so slightly. I closed my eyes, felt them falling shut, felt myself to be in an almost free fall of ecstasy, never knowing what he would do next but only knowing that it would feel so incredibly good. Things never felt this good with Leonard.
What in the world was I doing?