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His hands over your body feels like heaven. The slow, sensual, almost rocking strokes are touching you in ways that you could never have dreamt of. He’s being so patient with you, so careful, you feel like a dainty flower in his arms. A flower that surely is about to bloom, and it will feel,
You have no idea how it’s going to feel. You just know of him, and of how good he feels against every single part of you. The fact alone that he is here with you is divine. Three months ago you could never have hoped that he would so much as look your way. Now, through some fucked up magical sorcery, he’s holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.
And by the gods do you feel every ounce of what he wants you to feel. With his hands alone, he’s been making you feel like the world has fallen away around you. You realize that he’s damned skilled, but it hardly matters when your skin is so so hot against him. He knows what he’s doing with you. Maybe he’s even aware of the fact that he’s blowing your mind away. Every thought that isn’t him disappears. Was this his plan from the start?
You find yourself not caring. He’s touching you. He’s here with you, holding you close and keeping his arms around you in a way that makes you feel like every danger in the world that you’ve been taught about will never be able to touch you. It’s a cocoon of safety, and you feel so fucking wonderful within it. Don’t even let it peel away.
He shifts, and you hear him panting in your ear. Wait, is he close too? Low-pitched, rumbling grunts fall from his lips. Is that an utterance of your name? You can’t really tell with how fuzzy your mind is becoming, but hell is it hot. It’s filling every single one of your starry-eyed imaginings. He might just have spoken your name. No, he moaned your name, during a time when it’s only the two of you, in a tone so hushed it feels like his absolute most hidden secret. Has he whispered your name before when indulging with himself?
The thought sets your mind ablaze. You cling to it. Embrace it and let it envelop you like it’s the only thing in the world that matters. He whispered your name into your ear. And there it is again. That is your name, and it’s coming from his lips in a tone that isn’t meant to scold you or turn you down. Your oh-so-treacherous heart soars along with the drumming beat of your own pulse in your ears. You won’t be able to hold onto that edge you’ve so desperately clung to for the last minute or so. He has you completely and utterly at his mercy, and yet he’s grunting your name as if you are the one holding the reins.
Tentatively, carefully, like a young doe stepping onto a highway, you return the favor. In a desperate, high-pitched plea, his name rolls off your lips. It tastes as if it’s the first time you ever speak it, and yet his reaction is what makes the feeling even more divine. He’s holding you closer than what should be humanly possible, and his grunts sound as desperate as you feel. Are you both running off the edge?
You hone in on the sounds he makes. You cling to him as best you can, focusing every bit of attention you have left on his voice. His wonderful, harmonious voice. It’s so much different now that you’re sharing this moment than it usually is. It’s softer, sweeter. It’s filling your very core with life.
And then you explode. Every bit of your senses falls off the figurative edge of the map. You hear him fall with you, and you feel him shudder, still, and pulse. The echoing throb resonates through your body as if it were your heartbeat. Do you even any longer have your own heartbeat? You forgot that it existed about three seconds ago.
You fall together, magically and wonderfully, and the flower that you are spreads open to reach for the light and the life of the sunlight that shines above. Yet, as you’re falling, he’s taking to to ever grander heights. His name once more passes over your lips in your shrill cry, and you hear his grunts stutter as he clings to you. He pulses, throbs, huddling you close, and then he falls limp beneath you. The way he turns into a heavy, limbless mush against you is perhaps even more intoxicating than his moans.
You pant heavily, feeling your pulse slowly come down from thundering drums to an even beat against your chest. Then a laugh, breathless and joyous, finds its way through your haze. Your hands find his, and your fingers intertwine. You feel his nose nuzzling gently into the hair at your temple, causing a shudder of brilliant joy to shoot through every inch of your body. You find yourself relaxing in his hold. It has been a long time since you found yourself this cozy together with another.
“I’ve been waiting a long time to do that,” he speaks slowly, as if he’s hesitant to admit such a thing. What he doesn’t know is that his words cause a grin to form in your face, spreading from ear to ear. It stings slightly where a small crack is still healing. He’s been thinking about making love to you. He’s been waiting for this — wanting this. And yet again, your heart soars.
He wants me.
And all of a sudden, the world is filled with color.