She holds her tongue between her teeth. Her fingers will speak for her. Keys depressed to send sooty desire in his general direction. It’s been a hard and dangerous hiatus of communication. He gets lost easily, it’s only a tenuous thread what binds him, what reels him in. An invisible hair that must be wound and wound again, tightly, lest he escape and see what’s been done to him. Enough of this and he will crave her like the sting of the needle he never knew, he’ll shake for his hit. The wound will bleed nuances and he’ll lick it up.
With a little click, she signs in.
He’s there, in front of her. Witty t-shirt and long close jeans. His voice is distorted a little through memory, his face caught clear like a photograph. Anything for her, he claims. She’ll hold him and keep him. This one is special, this one is dear. She reaches out to slip off his shirt, he’s motionless, body bending little in the process. It falls to the floor to his bare feet, ignored from then on.
He’s vulnerable like this, half naked, trembling in the sudden chill on his flesh. It’s been so long. She turns away, closes the door and stands by it, watching him. His eyes follow her, obviously aching to hold her. There will be nothing of the sort, she thinks, not yet. Her mouth wants to warm him but instead she steps to him and slides her hands across his chest. One hand up to his throat, locking there like a metal band, and the other down, to circle around his waist. It’s cold outside, frost on the windows, but he stands with her. Waiting to find what comes next, he almost speaks, but she stops him. “Unbutton your pants,” she says, and he does so, his hands carefully brushing her skin as much as he’s allowed. She likes his hands, angular and lean, his fingers just longer than her own. She takes one and grasps it by the wrist, a vice inescapable. Her mouth travels to his chest, tongue flicking against the pink, teasing. She wants him to need her, to desire her beyond all imagining. Little moans answer and she tightens the hand at his neck.
She lets go of his wrist long enough to draw a collar from her pocket. It’s black, laced with rings. Her other hand shifts, pulling his head forward to accept the choker. She locks it onto him and slips the tiny key into her clothing before taking his arm again and letting go of his throat. She steps back, his eyes are huge, wondering, green like the sea where selkies swim. She touches a finger at his lips, lingering long enough for him to think about it. The softness of his tongue against her fingertips. The only contact he’s allowed, he shivers with it. Her other hand reaches out to press gently on a nipple. She wants to touch him, to explore him completely, but not yet. She has to look at him and see him want her. He has to gasp in the dark.
“Turn off the light and lie on the bed”
He carries out her request as she takes off her coat. She folds it and lays it neatly down on a chair next to the door before going to the bed. Sitting, she takes his hand again, tracing its lines. She lays it on her thigh and leans over him, searching his face for need. Her lips meet his for the first time, an electric shock tensing them together. Their tongues lash out, berating the other for not doing this sooner. She breaks away, a little shaken by the strength of her own wanting. He almost pulls her back to him, but waits. She’s already touching him again, sliding a hand down his chest to his hip. He’s winning and they know it. His hand floats up from her leg and gently undoes her blouse, button by button, while she looks away, down his body. The illusion must be preserved, even as he tenderly slips it off her shoulders. She looks at him finally, shrugging her clothing off, giving him permission to touch her.
He does. He lays her back on the red blankets and gently traces her contours as she was mapping his. Her hair is caught beneath her shoulders and he frees it, letting his touch linger at her cheek. He stretches out beside her, exploring her in the dim light of the street on the other side of the curtains. He caresses and kisses her, holding her close to him, pressing their bodies together. She takes his wrist again and he pulls away. Futile, she has him. Rolling on top of him, he tries a token escape but she’s cruel, grinding into him through her skirt and his jeans. She catches her breath at his gasp. His other hand clutches her hip, holding her as she moves against him, her hair tickling his chest. “Touch me”, she whispers, and lets go of her grip. He holds her with urgency now, a hand kneading her breast as the other pulls up her skirt. Next they’re lying side by side now, both busy undressing the other. Pulling his jeans down, she catches the crotch of his pants with her foot and pushes them free from his ankles as he undoes the clip of her bra. Her clothes are tossed across the room, more passion than she expected. His hands curl into her hair, pulling her head back, his hands touch everything exposed, admiring the arches and curves.
She rolls the taste of his skin on her tongue, smooth and dry. His hair is like cats fur, she thinks, as she idly wonders what would happen if she were to rub a piece of amber up against it. Sparks, like the ones flashing under her skin under his deft familiarity, she decides. She controls him utterly, he doesn’t move unless she wants him to. She opens to him, soft, wet, and warm. Opens to the unbearable sweetness of his “thank you,” and kiss. At one point he is at her feet, she is sitting on the bed and he is kneeling for her. She takes his head and raises his lips to hers. “I want you to remember this. I can feel it when you break the silence.” She drinks his breath with her inhale, steals his soul like a japanese fox. She takes his air as quietly as a cats shadow, it’s hers. He breathes because she lets him.
Soaked with need, they tumble. She’s holding him down and taking everything offered. Every piece of them burning, blazing with fire and wanting. Back arching, they see stars. She pushes him, moving delicately, slow and hard. He’s lost. Her name flies from him to shatter in a thousand puzzle pieces inside her skull. Rhythm met by jagged breathing, met by him pulling himself into her, her nails involuntarily clawing down his back, trying to sink him in closer than flesh allows. Eventually thinking of nothing but damp soft skin, heat like a flushed angel and this coiled pleasure, winding itself tighter through her blood, heartbeat aching with the poignant tang of need.