When We Get More Than We Bargain For

[EDIT] After some coercion, the male subject of these past few blogs has agreed to write a guest post for me from his perspective. Virtually unheard of, tune in tomorrow to read my subject’s response.

“I didn’t want this, any of this.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.”

The room is dark and my computer blinks morse code on the wall. I feel like if I exhale too quickly words will leak out of my mouth and hang in the air, a light fog of insecurity. I let the breath out slowly but he hears the words I couldn’t say like residue of a fire or ash on his skin. His hand is open and I trace the outline of his fingers. I let myself be pulled closer. I mould my body around his. With my head on his bare chest I let the pounding of his heart lull me in and out of sleep.

His fingers tracing my collar bone. My hands in his hair. Our hips and that moan when I bite softly at an ear lobe. I’m all out of fight. I want to know these sounds. I want to draw a map on his skin, write footnotes in the muscle and bone. My fingers are insatiable, running lightly up his back and down his sides. Circling a nipple, dipping under the band of his pants. The braille of goosebumps whispering secrets to my hands.

His breath catches and his tone turns husky. My name all at once a growl, a plea, a demand. His weight a comfort, his hands holding me, lifting, adjusting. We part and my hips find his again, meet and merge. I shake my head, emptying these thoughts from my mind, the words hovering on my lips, wanting to wait just a moment more. Knowing the line has already been crossed.

He sits up, leaning back, struggling to gain control. I am pinned, a butterfly in a glass case, a quiet surrender. My heart beats in purples and golds, faint against the twilight. A thrum that vibrates through my entire body and into the surrounding air. An electricity I never knew existed. The positive charge of his touch on the negative of my skin. Somewhere a light turns on.

Somewhere there are lovers silhouetted against a window.

I fall asleep curled against his back, kissing constellations into the freckles on his skin.

Lissie – Everywhere I Go

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10 thoughts on “When We Get More Than We Bargain For”

  1. “I didn’t want this, any of this.”
    “That doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.”

    I felt this way earlier in the week. Didn’t know what to think but now I am glad it is happening. Ahh to be young and in like.

  2. Oh my God.

    This is the sexiest thing I have read in I don’t know how long.

    “The braille of goosebumps whispering secrets to my hands.” I will never see skin the same way again.

    I love you.

    1. I agree, definitely the sexiest thing I’ve read in a long time.

      Love this line: “I fall asleep curled against his back, kissing constellations into the freckles on his skin.”

  3. I think I read it differently to the rest of your guys. I loved it because it was so different to how others might have described such a moment. In her inimitable way Lindsay has written something so intimate and personal without needing to refer to erotic particulars. Wonderful.

  4. @Grant: It’s true, the last thing you think you want sometimes turns out to be the one thing you need.

    @Bea & Kristan: Thanks, ladies. I wasn’t sure how it was going to be received. It felt pretty damn sexy to write, I’m glad it came across that way. In the dark all my focus falls on skin and fingertips.

    @Hannah: Your longing and my longing are the ends of the same long string.

    @Amy: Thank you, love.

    @Stephen: Aw, your comments are always so lovely. I try to convey the mood and my perception. I think things become sensual in your mind because of how you see them, not necessarily the acts themselves. So, then, what matters most are the thoughts… the places your mind travels.

  5. Thrilled to see he’s going to write something… quite interested to see his style and perspective.

    As for your entry, honestly – I’m running out of ways to compliment you. Your talent and beauty are much the same… Breathtaking.

    xo

  6. Delicious and beautiful, like the hushed whir of calloused hands brushing bare skin. I can taste it, feel it, see and hear it. I am there. This is what exceptional writing does. So very well done.

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