(making) Love
Love. Making love. Are these the words that pass through my mind in those dark, heated moments? Are there words at all? I am filled with want, I am filled with need. I'm burning for your touch but unable to articulate. Your skin is hot beneath my palms, you're burning for me, too. I feel like I should rein myself in but I've long lost the lead. Everything else falls away and nothing outside of us exists anymore; you are what I breathe, taste, all I see, all that anchors me.
Can I be too eager? I want you so close, I want to feel you tremble, I want to hear you moan, I want I want I want. I want to bring you to the edge, deny you, pull you over, indulge you. I want to feel every inch of your flesh flush against mine, I want your nails, I want your teeth. I don't want to wait. I slide my hand between us and slip my fingers between your secret lips. I love finding you hot, slick, I love when you gasp at my touch. I already just want to make you come, quick and hard, but we both enjoy it more when I take my time.
I know your sex almost as well as I know my own. It feels tiny to me, precious, perfect. I am as amazed with our similarities as I am with our differences. Your musk is heady and it makes my head swim, suddenly I can't smell anything else. You cling to me and gasp and move closer when I slide my fingers inside you. I try to stay conscious of your body's movements, trying to keep time with you, trying but usually I fall off the beat. You don't seem to mind. I slide out and find your sweet spot and rub, circle, nudge you toward your climax.
I'm only working with one hand, but my imagination runs wild with the possibilities of my mouth, my tongue. I know your taste but I have to be braver to go down, and I am not quite that brave. So I focus on the moment, on the now, on your legs wrapped around me and your arched back and quick breaths. Are you going to come for me? I think so. I change my tactic, aiming for the fireworks. More pressure, more insistence, a higher tempo. My boy is reacting like it's my climax we're working for; I'm burning up, so wet, muscles clenching, hungry. Sometimes I sigh and moan against you, mimicking you, complimenting you.
It's at this point I want you inside me the most. I want to come with you, I want our ecstasy to crash together like to waves on the ocean. I move away from the pinnacle of your sex to push into you up to my knuckles. Your back arches and you make the most delicious sounds, I feel you squeezing my fingers as I reach, stretch, fill you. Sometimes you ask for this, deeper, and I love it when you ask for what you want. I angle, realign, and I can press into you as my thumb presses circles against that nub.
When you tense, arching further, I know you're close. I feel my hips moving of their own accord, almost with the beat, my feet curling around your ankles, my lips and teeth on your flesh where, when I can. I want to please you with my whole body, I want to embrace you with it, hold you close, rock you. You're toppling over the edge and I catch you carry you through the explosions of your pleasure. Your claws dig in, toes curl, breath comes in little gasps. You shudder. I pull you in nearer, kissing you, sliding my fingers oh so gently from your sex, cupping your vulva.
Your orgasm has shaken me, too, and my pulse is racing. It's love to the billionth degree. I wrap my arms around you and kiss your soft skin, your jaw, your lips. I'm so enamored of you, I never want to stop touching you. Yes, it is making love. All I can think of is how I love you...