... ... ... A TORMENT ... ... ...
A whole month for each other and for spectators they played it as decent as possible. With thoughts not at all like that, especially in fancies before sleep, and in the morning compulsively waking up almost moaning, whether with pleasure from a dream or disappointment that it's not real... yet. But nevertheless, it's a good start for a day. Practically every day in a row. Seemed so long row of tormenting by tons of open smiles, glances, words...
"Why you still here?" he finally switched off from typing his report.
"Waiting to perform a doctor on you once again..." she informed nonchalantly, spinning in her chair. Or should she say "a nurse"? No, shame!
"Damn me," he weary sighed. "Sorry to keep you that late." Truly apologetic, he quickly stood to head straight to her, but she readily captured him at the side of his table, sat him at the edge of it and settled her aid kit near. Not a heartbeat skipped at the slight connection of their lower bodies, and the same even breathing... as the feeling freely and confidently flew through veins and every cell without any internal restriction and obstacle. To cut it short - no reason for disturbance but his sort of wound.
There's a scratched temple on the right of his face, first to disinfect, then an ointment placed on it to heal. Not much of a trouble, but enough of a pleasure. Up to his brow and down to his cheek-bone. Back and forth. Too slow. Too tender. With more keen attention to the other parts of his face where her eyes roamed, while her fingertips caressed the injured area. In a moment like this he'd bravely and eagerly choose to be constantly beaten by anything and anyone on his way, just then to have her so close and attend him - what she'd insist to do anyway and order him to obey.
"I left, kids!" announced its departure the only witness, not to avoid the awkwardness but merely to give them a secure room to finally fulfill what they obviously and everlastingly needed and longed for.
A farewell to a friend got lost and forgotten, like nothing around existed, and intimate reality welcomed them again. Taking a chance or not? She barely stopped in her petting not for an instant or away from fondly tracing his features. She's aware it's fully up to her. He wouldn't dare to cross a physical line until then. Out of respect and his good manners, not fear or doubt. And she loved he gave her this power and safety. Those power and safety he possessed himself.
"Hurts when I touch it?" she inquired so softly she could hardly hear herself.
He inhaled, "Hurts when you don't." With blatant truth he was a forward. Not a bit of immodesty, yet, pure heartedness. Though, his hands craved to relax a hold of the edge of the table and instead find themselves lingering on her waist... or her face either... or any living part of her... He only hardened his grip of the desk, so huge was this temptation. "But I'm not going to take advantage of your kindness."
"That is not just kindness," she specified, like if they were not able to read each other. They were! So, her hands tardily fell... down his neck... through his chest... and at the same crawl, shit, as if teasingly, round and over the belt of his jeans. "Okay then. Tough it out." Thus, she ultimately broke their connection so beyond their duties - mindlessly core pressed to core all this time.
Once her body separated and distanced from his, it felt unusually cold and dark around. She looked back at him with such a clear realization - she belongs right where she was seconds ago. He knew that too. But for today they are done. This tormenting in full kicky flesh, unlike to sweet dreams an individual elusive dish, will continue tomorrow. And as long as they can endue. So be it.