I pushed open the door. My hand grasped its frame, searching inwards, feeling for the switch. The light. Where the fuck is it. I’m holding her up.
“Fuck the switch,” she rasped. “Leave it.”
She stumbled on in to the dark void that is the room, tugging at my hand. She turned, faced me fully, my body collapsed against the frame as if I was in a drunken stupor. She cut the distance between us in half, to a tenth, to nothing. Her lips fell on mine. Our tongues collided. We searched for each other. We searched for the end. We searched for release. Our mutual lust wanted more.
So intent we were on tearing each other’s face off we gracelessly slow-danced to… the bed? No. Fuck the bed. I guided her to the fireplace, a source of burning light competing fiercely with our own ever growing passions. We crumpled onto the thick white, warm rug. We continued. Our lips, our tongues; we met with barbaric want. Her hands grabbing my hair, pulling me closer. For a timeless second we tore open our eyes. Eye contact, unshackled, no restraint in what they screamed at each other, no words needed: I want this. I want you. Yes. Are you sure? God yes.
I tore my lips from hers, leaving a mark she’ll oh so struggle to hide. I searched for more. I dragged my face down. To her neck. I licked. I kissed. I sucked. I worshipped. I went further, digging my nails underneath her dress: black, strapless, beginning and ending with lace but built of soft, light silk; a style that harks back to the 1950s: presentable, attractive, hot, it hugs her figure well, it needs to come off.
I heard a rip. Shit. I paused.
She stifled a giggle, she breathed. “Don’t stop.”
The rest of the dress came off. Her bosom; the tips puckered; I nibbled; I bit. She shivered.
Her tummy. I trailed kisses around in a neat circle, continuing my journey ever further down, down to everything.
The lace underwear. A challenge. I took my face between her thighs. I pushed my nose against the lace. I nuzzled. Harder. She stiffened. Will he…?
I drew my lips to her thighs, kissing whilst I fumbled with the underwear. I sat up, pulled it off, down her knees, past her ankles. She lifted her legs and hips up, lazily flicking her heels away. All was off. I playfully smacked her now free bottom. It wobbled. She giggled. I grinned hungrily.
I returned to her thighs. I dragged my body down further, continuing my nuzzling as if I was going to her ankles, away from it.
She moaned. “Come back.”
I came back. I guided my nose, I nudged a little, lifted my head. I licked the edges. I kissed. I danced around the clitoris, refusing, playing.
Maybe I was playing for too long. Her hand, out of nowhere, stroked my head, eventually taking a small knot of hair in her fingers. She pushed me a little; her hand shaking with want.
I parted her. I leaned in. I started gentle, almost lazy, even. My tongue flickering up, down left right, around, but no further. Not yet. The hand on my head slowly grew in strength, it shook, it pushed me further in. I could only but happily, longingly, comply.
My tongue hardened. I pushed in further, greedily forward. She tightened around me. I moved my hands to clutch her buttocks. I pulled myself even more. More. My tongue searched it. It went everywhere. It licked. It contracted, but, was it enough?
I pulled my face away. Clothes off. Quickly. Clumsily. Fuck the cufflinks. The shirt, the buttons? Fuck the buttons. I knelt, drawing my body to the height it could.
She, still strewn atop the rug, pushed her hips forward, meeting me, wanting me, inviting me.
I guided myself to her, playfully stopping at the tip, meeting her just. She could feel me. Her hips demanded more, straining to meet me whole.
I held myself. I pushed in, but only a bit.
This position. No. Too impersonal. I moved myself on top of her, my face reaching for hers. My hips lifted upwards. They thrusted. They entered. Mygod. She moaned. But I paused.
My mouth searched for her ear.
“I want this.”
She breathed. “I want you.”
“I want to be yours.”
“I want you to be mine. I want you. I love you.”
“I love you.”
I brought her up, hugging tight; she now sat atop my legs. I pushed in again. I thrusted. I built up a rhythm. Every thrust went further, went harder. We joined together. Our lips on each other. Biting each other. Our tongues dueling with such proud ferocity. My hands rubbed her back, pulling her in, tracing her bones, ripping into her. Her hands felt my lower back. She tore at me, scratching with vociferous want. Don’t withdraw. More. More and more and please please do not fucking stop I want this with you, only you, only from you, only with you. Do not stop. Do not. Do not…
Our breathing became one. Our gasps for breath and our moaning and our sudden cries out and our feelings and our love… they were all one. We shared our tongues, our breath, our saliva. This was love. Raw and unregulated and undocumented and passionate and powerful and it was all that fucking mattered. No one watching. No one judging. No one to stop us. We could fight the fucking world if we wanted. We were one. Whole. We were everything. Day and night. Winter and summer. Light and dark. We were the only things that mattered and we must not stop.
The fire crackled. It sang.
My finger lazily danced over her tummy, running between her breasts, on to one, slowly around a nipple, tickling – but not enough to irritate, or to wake – and down again. Her hair wrapped around my face, her face mere centimeters from my own. My eyes, gazing from her peaceful, beautiful face, shifted to watch her chest rise and fall in content sleep. For how long I watched, I do not know, but the feeling of completeness kept me still. I… I was in love.
She mumbled. Her face shifted a little. She turned to face me, eyes half open. I returned the shift, eyes gazing into hers. My lips twitched into a shy smile? Her eyes widened. Widening in shock? Surprise? Does she remember? Does she regre-
She etched closer, lips parting. I, still with my eyes looked onto hers, and hers mine, returned the gesture. Slowly, we kissed, meeting not with the lust and wanting barbarism of hours ago, but… calm, tender, content, loving, feeling.