Amaeru 甘える (4/8)
Dec. 4th, 2014 05:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wendyjolyTitle : Amaeru
Author : WendyJoly
Pairing : Ohno Satoshi/Ninomiya Kazunari, Sho Sakurai/Matsumoto Jun
Rating : From PG to NC-17
Summary : Ohno Satoshi, young and promising actor just lost his wife in a car crash, an actress twice his age. She entrusted him his son, Kazunari, his worst intimate enemy.
CHAPTER 4
I can’t sleep after this incident. The stress due to the future shooting and the absence of Nino in my bed keep me awake nights after nights.
I wander all around the house when he sleeps; I eavesdrop from behind his door to be sure. Eventually I buy a TV for my bedroom, to keep me company and I have to admit that I feel a bit pathetic.
But he sounds to be perfectly well, making me understand that I’m the only one to suffer of the situation. I can only hold on since it’s my decision, my fault. If he can feel good without me, I guess I can too; it’s a matter of discipline and time.
He helps me at its own way. He doesn’t reproach me anything and I try to be glad, waiting impatiently the moment I won’t feel a pinch of disappointment when he walks by me without touching me.
Since the workshop incident, I didn’t see his drawings and even if I’m curious I can’t ask him. He has to take the initiative. I know he’s now head of the class at school and after all, that’s all it matters.
I’m almost relieved when my new job begins. I couldn’t wait to see people and finally run away from this house.
It’s a family drama and I’ll play the elder son. I’ll be married, I will even have children. My luck is that the main actor, who plays my brother, is the very first co-actor I played with. We get along very well and it’s enough for me to face the unknown with a peaceful mind. He’s older than me, but like always, the cast director doesn’t give a shit about the real age gap. By the way, my ‘wife’ is only 20 years old and our son 12…what a family.
By the end of the first week, I eat with the staff at restaurant and I take a few drinks before calling a cab to go back home.
Nino is on the couch, half laid on it, scribbling on his sketchbook, and on the TV screen, my first movie.
I get rid of my shoes and socks and sits face to him.
“They play this old stuff on TV?”
“Seems like.”
“I don’t think it’s something to watch.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know…that caused a scandal…”
I played the role of a high school boy who has an affair with his teacher and some very crude scenes made my reputation of lustful actor. When I married Riko, the mass media assaulted us with old reports, pretending that truth had exceeded fiction. The gutter press had a blast.
“Because of the sex scenes?”
“Amongst other things. Because of the subject too.”
“Being naked doesn’t annoy you?”
“If it serves the story, why not? It’s part of the job. Anyway you can’t really see something significant.”
I don’t feel like it’s me on the screen, it could be a perfect stranger. I remember my state of mind at that time. I was full of confidence, sure I’d change the Cinema History. I went out with the actress who played my sister and who’s married now with a rocker I can’t remember the name.
Nino is still focused on his notebook. I look down and put my feet on his’. With the tip of my toe I caress him but he doesn’t react.
“What?!” He says in an undertone.
“You show me?”
“No way.”
“Are you still mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad?”
“Don’t know, tell me.”
“Get your feet off mine, we’ll talk after.”
I’m immediately showered by his cold tone and I sit properly, my arms around my folded legs, my chin on my knees.
“Don’t be aggressive, Nino. I’m cool with you.”
“Okay, sorry. But you get me nervous, touching me this way. I’m not your dog…or your boyfriend.”
“It’s a low attack.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Nino…”
I crave to tell him how much I miss him, how much the lack of caress between us makes me sad and empty. But I can’t.
“What?”
“Nothing. Forget it. I won’t touch you anymore, sorry.”
Jun is right, I lack of relationship and it troubles me. Plus I have a perfect plan, in less than 15 days, the movie will be released on screen, it’s a perfect timing to gather the staff.
The previous week, I invite everybody to a barbecue at home.
We’re almost 50 and I didn’t find the guts to cook by myself. I called a caterer.
It’s strange to see this house invaded. We’re just the two of us in this huge mansion and it’s only full packed that it seems to be at human size.
That’s why Riko built it, to receive people and catch the eye of the guests. Not to be a family home.
Aiko barges in with two actresses and she’s pretty tonight. I didn’t remember. At that time my mind was a mess though.
They greet me and like magic, soon we’re just the two of us.
“There are a lot of people.” Lame, but I suck to make conversation. At least, she laughs. I hand her a drink.
“What’s this?”
“Don’t know. Something strong, I guess.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So?”
“So?!”
“Are you shooting something?”
She blushes under my gaze, looking down her red flashy shoes like the Wizard of Oz girl. I nod.
“Yeah a drama. You?”
“A butai next week.”
“You’ll be busy, the promo, the butai…”
“I like it. Be overbooked appeases the angst.”
“Are you hungry?”
“A bit.”
I ignore why we are staying together or why everybody seems to treat her as if she hosted the party. They sound to think we’re a couple and it’s pretty comfortable. It’s like playing a role and when I ask her opinion she has the cleverness –or the wit- to play her part.
We eat, we drink a bit, a lot, and when the night falls we’re just a few.
Some are sleeping on armchairs and couches, out of drunkenness, some are chatting in the garden, some others are…I don’t know where. I don’t care.
“Do I show you around?”
“Why not.”
She looks down and blushes nicely, her eyes too shiny because she drank too much. I step forward and she takes my hand, I don’t even think refusing. The kitchen, the garden –oh there are people in the bushes- the greenhouse, the study, we end in my workshop.
I didn’t come in since the night Nino closed the door. She opens and drags me in by the hand. It smells painting and new furniture. The table is covered by pens, stacks of paper never used and my heart constricts when I spot the books I bought for him, now collecting dust on the shelves.
“Are you drawing?”
“No, I paint. I painted.”
“Not anymore?”
“Not since my wife passed away.”
“I’m sorry Satoshi. I didn’t want to sadden you.”
She has a contrite face but her look tells another story. She comes closer and puts her hands on my shoulders, half closing her eyelids. She kisses me and I let her doing, waiting for a physical reaction in vain. I kiss her too, better, but in spite of the desire to feel something, there’s nothing at all.
I step back and she doesn’t open her eyes immediately.
“Sorry, I’m not ready.” I whisper.
She raises her gaze and seeing her startled look I turn around. Nino is detailing us angrily and I feel like a teenager.
Aiko arches a suspicious eyebrow.
“This is Kazunari my late wife’s son. Kazunari-kun, this is Aiko Aitani, my co-actress.”
He remains silent but strides to me, sliding his hand in mine, glaring at Aiko. It’s only with her embarrassed look that I understand what she’s seeing. I release Nino’s hand.
“That’s not what you think it is.”
“I don’t think anything, Satoshi-san…I’ll go back to the living room.”
She waves and exits, leaving us behind. “That’s not what you think it is.” But why did I feel the need to say this? What she could think, I wonder. I’m ashamed of myself suddenly. I’m afraid for Nino. Is he hurt because he can believe that, somehow, I looked for a substitute? But it isn’t the case…I want to tell I didn’t feel anything, no relief, no pleasure, no joy, nothing.
“So…The desperate widower found a new fuck eventually?”
I was about to apologize, to justify but his mean accusation and the hate I feel in his voice baffles me. Before I can even think twice, I slap him.
He holds his cheek but glares at me with disdain. “Nino I’m so sorr~”I’m cut by a violent slap.
He doesn’t need more than a mini second to understand that my hand itches again, that I’m gonna answer. He turns tail and runs to his bedroom as fast as he can.
But he will pay for this.
I take the time to bid farewell to the staff, to hail cab, noticing Aiko’s absence.
When I’m alone I bang at his door.
“Open!”
Of course, no answer. I’m stubborn but he’s too so I fetch my tool box in the garage.
I give him a last warning and since he plays the dumb I attack the door. I don’t really know what I’m looking for, but I’m out of mind and I want to see him right now, right here for him to explain and atone the slap I’m still feeling on my burning cheek.
I persevere and devastate the screw threads, my hands hurt like Hell, already bleeding, my blood beats strong at my temples, but soon I achieved my work.
With a kick I push the shaky door, I rush into the bedroom. He’s curled into himself, in a corner of his bed, totally panicked.
I stop short.
He’s afraid, and suddenly I can’t understand why I’m so mad, why our little fight made me destroying a door bare handed. My breath is short and I stare at him straightforwardly.
“I’m not gonna hurt you.”
It sounds crazy. Of course, I hurt him. I slapped him one hour ago and now I’m scaring him to death. I throw the tool still in my hands and sit on his bed. I catch my breath and open my heart.
“I’m sorry, once again. I shouldn’t have hit you, I shouldn’t have broken your door, I shouldn’t so many things. Try to kiss her, it was bullshit too. I believed…I don’t know what I believed, sounds so idiotic now…”
While I’m talking, my gaze wanders around in this bedroom I never really visited. I never passed the threshold; he’s the one who always came to me. His desk is a mess and suddenly under a stack of books, I spot one which catches my eye. Because it’s not a book but I know this notebook very well. It’s Riko’s diary. He jumps on it but I’m faster. I grip it, challenging him.
“Give it back to me!”
“Why? It’s mine too. Maybe mine only…according your feelings about her.”
We’re observing each other for a very long time and I read despair in his eyes. I look down at the big red notebook and tones of memories overwhelm me. Everybody narrates his life on the internet nowadays but she kept on writing each day on paper, scrupulously. Strange habits she kept since childhood.
I open it and hear his “Satoshi, don’t, please” muffled behind me.
I smile bitterly.
“Today was my first day on the set…I ate in a fabulous restaurant…I cleaned Mother’s grave.”
I skim the days, searching for instinctively the day we met.
Nino is leaned against the wall and doesn’t talk anymore but I don’t really pay attention, I’m elsewhere.
“I spent my first day with TB it was wonderful and so refreshing. One shouldn’t underestimate young men; they are the best anti-wrinkle cream…”
My heart skips a beat. TB.
It’s everywhere. She details everything and I flush, Nino read this. The more I read, the more I understand. TB it’s me.
“Did you read?”
He nods and he’s blank.
“Why TB? You know?”
He nods again.
“Do tell me.”
“That’s how she called you when you were not around.”
“What does it mean?”
“I can’t.”
“WHAT DOES IT MEAN?”
He jumps and closes his eyes.
“Toy Boy.”
I swallow the knot in my throat. Toy Boy? What’s with this bullshit?
…
So…that’s what I was for her? An object, a fucking trophy for cougar?
I get out and traverse the corridor to crawl on my bed after closing the door. Then I read. Enlightened by the brand new acknowledgment of my sex toy status.
Pages after pages, she wrote everything, all the moments we lived together, soiled by her jaded look. I’m disgusted by my naivety. Those papers, this gutter press said the truth. She used me, like she used Nino to play the saint. The few lines about him are laconic. “Open your eyes.” He told me. What a moron. I can’t even get angry. I vomit her. The pages are suddenly wet and I figure out I’m crying passively.
I reached the bottom when I notice Nino at the door. My gaze calls him dreadfully. He climbs on the bed and holds me thigh, with tenderness while I’m clinging on him desperately. He lulls me for hours until the moment I’m too dry to cry. I release him and when I look by the window the dawn is rising. I gaze at him but he doesn’t sleep. His eyes are puffed with exhaustion but he didn’t let me down. Not a second.
“I’m sorry.” He murmurs.
“It’s not your fault.”
“I didn’t want for you to read it, that’s why I took it.”
“It’s…better to know.”
“She was a dirty fucking bitch.”
I chuckle hysterically and he whips my tears with his thumbs.
I missed him so much. I make him roll on his side and I nestle against his back, caressing his soft belly, kissing the nape of his neck.
“She did something good.” I purr in his ear.
Against my torso his heart beats faster and he grabs my hand then lay down.
“What?”
“She entrusted to each other.”
He swallows hard and blushes, his chest moves quicker and he half closes his eyes.
I stroke his cheek with the back of my hand and brush a strand of hair behind his ear.
“If you have to kiss me, do it quickly.” He mumbles with emotion.
I crave for it. Terribly. Since when?
I bend forward slowly, savouring the few centimetres between our two mouths, the pleasure building inside my lower belly with anticipation. I intertwine our fingers, caressing gently the sweetness of his naked stomach with the tip of my finger and finally I slightly part my lips to kiss his mouth.
He moans sensually and answers clumsily, his hand flat on the mattress. He doesn’t dare moving, leaving me the initiative of our mutual exploration. He’s sweet and delicious. How did I manage to sleep so many nights by his side, ignoring the taste of his lips, I wonder.
As his hand grips my shoulder to deepen our kiss, I forget everything else. I don’t even know why I refused us this pleasure for so long. I kiss him again and again, my lips discovering the softness of his neck, coming back to the beautiful and unique mole on his chin, reaching his mouth again.
When my lips are burning and too bruised, I lie down and catch my breath. He hovers over me to details me eagerly; our two breaths are still erratic and I reach out to stroke his cheek. He takes advantage of it to rest his head on my shoulder.
“You are tired.” I whisper.
“A bit.”
“So, sleep. Nothing will have changed when you’ll wake up.”
Five seconds later, his head weights on me. I fetch the blanket to cover us and fall asleep at my turn.
TBC...
Author : WendyJoly
Pairing : Ohno Satoshi/Ninomiya Kazunari, Sho Sakurai/Matsumoto Jun
Rating : From PG to NC-17
Summary : Ohno Satoshi, young and promising actor just lost his wife in a car crash, an actress twice his age. She entrusted him his son, Kazunari, his worst intimate enemy.
CHAPTER 4
I can’t sleep after this incident. The stress due to the future shooting and the absence of Nino in my bed keep me awake nights after nights.
I wander all around the house when he sleeps; I eavesdrop from behind his door to be sure. Eventually I buy a TV for my bedroom, to keep me company and I have to admit that I feel a bit pathetic.
But he sounds to be perfectly well, making me understand that I’m the only one to suffer of the situation. I can only hold on since it’s my decision, my fault. If he can feel good without me, I guess I can too; it’s a matter of discipline and time.
He helps me at its own way. He doesn’t reproach me anything and I try to be glad, waiting impatiently the moment I won’t feel a pinch of disappointment when he walks by me without touching me.
Since the workshop incident, I didn’t see his drawings and even if I’m curious I can’t ask him. He has to take the initiative. I know he’s now head of the class at school and after all, that’s all it matters.
I’m almost relieved when my new job begins. I couldn’t wait to see people and finally run away from this house.
It’s a family drama and I’ll play the elder son. I’ll be married, I will even have children. My luck is that the main actor, who plays my brother, is the very first co-actor I played with. We get along very well and it’s enough for me to face the unknown with a peaceful mind. He’s older than me, but like always, the cast director doesn’t give a shit about the real age gap. By the way, my ‘wife’ is only 20 years old and our son 12…what a family.
By the end of the first week, I eat with the staff at restaurant and I take a few drinks before calling a cab to go back home.
Nino is on the couch, half laid on it, scribbling on his sketchbook, and on the TV screen, my first movie.
I get rid of my shoes and socks and sits face to him.
“They play this old stuff on TV?”
“Seems like.”
“I don’t think it’s something to watch.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know…that caused a scandal…”
I played the role of a high school boy who has an affair with his teacher and some very crude scenes made my reputation of lustful actor. When I married Riko, the mass media assaulted us with old reports, pretending that truth had exceeded fiction. The gutter press had a blast.
“Because of the sex scenes?”
“Amongst other things. Because of the subject too.”
“Being naked doesn’t annoy you?”
“If it serves the story, why not? It’s part of the job. Anyway you can’t really see something significant.”
I don’t feel like it’s me on the screen, it could be a perfect stranger. I remember my state of mind at that time. I was full of confidence, sure I’d change the Cinema History. I went out with the actress who played my sister and who’s married now with a rocker I can’t remember the name.
Nino is still focused on his notebook. I look down and put my feet on his’. With the tip of my toe I caress him but he doesn’t react.
“What?!” He says in an undertone.
“You show me?”
“No way.”
“Are you still mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad?”
“Don’t know, tell me.”
“Get your feet off mine, we’ll talk after.”
I’m immediately showered by his cold tone and I sit properly, my arms around my folded legs, my chin on my knees.
“Don’t be aggressive, Nino. I’m cool with you.”
“Okay, sorry. But you get me nervous, touching me this way. I’m not your dog…or your boyfriend.”
“It’s a low attack.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Nino…”
I crave to tell him how much I miss him, how much the lack of caress between us makes me sad and empty. But I can’t.
“What?”
“Nothing. Forget it. I won’t touch you anymore, sorry.”
Jun is right, I lack of relationship and it troubles me. Plus I have a perfect plan, in less than 15 days, the movie will be released on screen, it’s a perfect timing to gather the staff.
The previous week, I invite everybody to a barbecue at home.
We’re almost 50 and I didn’t find the guts to cook by myself. I called a caterer.
It’s strange to see this house invaded. We’re just the two of us in this huge mansion and it’s only full packed that it seems to be at human size.
That’s why Riko built it, to receive people and catch the eye of the guests. Not to be a family home.
Aiko barges in with two actresses and she’s pretty tonight. I didn’t remember. At that time my mind was a mess though.
They greet me and like magic, soon we’re just the two of us.
“There are a lot of people.” Lame, but I suck to make conversation. At least, she laughs. I hand her a drink.
“What’s this?”
“Don’t know. Something strong, I guess.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So?”
“So?!”
“Are you shooting something?”
She blushes under my gaze, looking down her red flashy shoes like the Wizard of Oz girl. I nod.
“Yeah a drama. You?”
“A butai next week.”
“You’ll be busy, the promo, the butai…”
“I like it. Be overbooked appeases the angst.”
“Are you hungry?”
“A bit.”
I ignore why we are staying together or why everybody seems to treat her as if she hosted the party. They sound to think we’re a couple and it’s pretty comfortable. It’s like playing a role and when I ask her opinion she has the cleverness –or the wit- to play her part.
We eat, we drink a bit, a lot, and when the night falls we’re just a few.
Some are sleeping on armchairs and couches, out of drunkenness, some are chatting in the garden, some others are…I don’t know where. I don’t care.
“Do I show you around?”
“Why not.”
She looks down and blushes nicely, her eyes too shiny because she drank too much. I step forward and she takes my hand, I don’t even think refusing. The kitchen, the garden –oh there are people in the bushes- the greenhouse, the study, we end in my workshop.
I didn’t come in since the night Nino closed the door. She opens and drags me in by the hand. It smells painting and new furniture. The table is covered by pens, stacks of paper never used and my heart constricts when I spot the books I bought for him, now collecting dust on the shelves.
“Are you drawing?”
“No, I paint. I painted.”
“Not anymore?”
“Not since my wife passed away.”
“I’m sorry Satoshi. I didn’t want to sadden you.”
She has a contrite face but her look tells another story. She comes closer and puts her hands on my shoulders, half closing her eyelids. She kisses me and I let her doing, waiting for a physical reaction in vain. I kiss her too, better, but in spite of the desire to feel something, there’s nothing at all.
I step back and she doesn’t open her eyes immediately.
“Sorry, I’m not ready.” I whisper.
She raises her gaze and seeing her startled look I turn around. Nino is detailing us angrily and I feel like a teenager.
Aiko arches a suspicious eyebrow.
“This is Kazunari my late wife’s son. Kazunari-kun, this is Aiko Aitani, my co-actress.”
He remains silent but strides to me, sliding his hand in mine, glaring at Aiko. It’s only with her embarrassed look that I understand what she’s seeing. I release Nino’s hand.
“That’s not what you think it is.”
“I don’t think anything, Satoshi-san…I’ll go back to the living room.”
She waves and exits, leaving us behind. “That’s not what you think it is.” But why did I feel the need to say this? What she could think, I wonder. I’m ashamed of myself suddenly. I’m afraid for Nino. Is he hurt because he can believe that, somehow, I looked for a substitute? But it isn’t the case…I want to tell I didn’t feel anything, no relief, no pleasure, no joy, nothing.
“So…The desperate widower found a new fuck eventually?”
I was about to apologize, to justify but his mean accusation and the hate I feel in his voice baffles me. Before I can even think twice, I slap him.
He holds his cheek but glares at me with disdain. “Nino I’m so sorr~”I’m cut by a violent slap.
He doesn’t need more than a mini second to understand that my hand itches again, that I’m gonna answer. He turns tail and runs to his bedroom as fast as he can.
But he will pay for this.
I take the time to bid farewell to the staff, to hail cab, noticing Aiko’s absence.
When I’m alone I bang at his door.
“Open!”
Of course, no answer. I’m stubborn but he’s too so I fetch my tool box in the garage.
I give him a last warning and since he plays the dumb I attack the door. I don’t really know what I’m looking for, but I’m out of mind and I want to see him right now, right here for him to explain and atone the slap I’m still feeling on my burning cheek.
I persevere and devastate the screw threads, my hands hurt like Hell, already bleeding, my blood beats strong at my temples, but soon I achieved my work.
With a kick I push the shaky door, I rush into the bedroom. He’s curled into himself, in a corner of his bed, totally panicked.
I stop short.
He’s afraid, and suddenly I can’t understand why I’m so mad, why our little fight made me destroying a door bare handed. My breath is short and I stare at him straightforwardly.
“I’m not gonna hurt you.”
It sounds crazy. Of course, I hurt him. I slapped him one hour ago and now I’m scaring him to death. I throw the tool still in my hands and sit on his bed. I catch my breath and open my heart.
“I’m sorry, once again. I shouldn’t have hit you, I shouldn’t have broken your door, I shouldn’t so many things. Try to kiss her, it was bullshit too. I believed…I don’t know what I believed, sounds so idiotic now…”
While I’m talking, my gaze wanders around in this bedroom I never really visited. I never passed the threshold; he’s the one who always came to me. His desk is a mess and suddenly under a stack of books, I spot one which catches my eye. Because it’s not a book but I know this notebook very well. It’s Riko’s diary. He jumps on it but I’m faster. I grip it, challenging him.
“Give it back to me!”
“Why? It’s mine too. Maybe mine only…according your feelings about her.”
We’re observing each other for a very long time and I read despair in his eyes. I look down at the big red notebook and tones of memories overwhelm me. Everybody narrates his life on the internet nowadays but she kept on writing each day on paper, scrupulously. Strange habits she kept since childhood.
I open it and hear his “Satoshi, don’t, please” muffled behind me.
I smile bitterly.
“Today was my first day on the set…I ate in a fabulous restaurant…I cleaned Mother’s grave.”
I skim the days, searching for instinctively the day we met.
Nino is leaned against the wall and doesn’t talk anymore but I don’t really pay attention, I’m elsewhere.
“I spent my first day with TB it was wonderful and so refreshing. One shouldn’t underestimate young men; they are the best anti-wrinkle cream…”
My heart skips a beat. TB.
It’s everywhere. She details everything and I flush, Nino read this. The more I read, the more I understand. TB it’s me.
“Did you read?”
He nods and he’s blank.
“Why TB? You know?”
He nods again.
“Do tell me.”
“That’s how she called you when you were not around.”
“What does it mean?”
“I can’t.”
“WHAT DOES IT MEAN?”
He jumps and closes his eyes.
“Toy Boy.”
I swallow the knot in my throat. Toy Boy? What’s with this bullshit?
…
So…that’s what I was for her? An object, a fucking trophy for cougar?
I get out and traverse the corridor to crawl on my bed after closing the door. Then I read. Enlightened by the brand new acknowledgment of my sex toy status.
Pages after pages, she wrote everything, all the moments we lived together, soiled by her jaded look. I’m disgusted by my naivety. Those papers, this gutter press said the truth. She used me, like she used Nino to play the saint. The few lines about him are laconic. “Open your eyes.” He told me. What a moron. I can’t even get angry. I vomit her. The pages are suddenly wet and I figure out I’m crying passively.
I reached the bottom when I notice Nino at the door. My gaze calls him dreadfully. He climbs on the bed and holds me thigh, with tenderness while I’m clinging on him desperately. He lulls me for hours until the moment I’m too dry to cry. I release him and when I look by the window the dawn is rising. I gaze at him but he doesn’t sleep. His eyes are puffed with exhaustion but he didn’t let me down. Not a second.
“I’m sorry.” He murmurs.
“It’s not your fault.”
“I didn’t want for you to read it, that’s why I took it.”
“It’s…better to know.”
“She was a dirty fucking bitch.”
I chuckle hysterically and he whips my tears with his thumbs.
I missed him so much. I make him roll on his side and I nestle against his back, caressing his soft belly, kissing the nape of his neck.
“She did something good.” I purr in his ear.
Against my torso his heart beats faster and he grabs my hand then lay down.
“What?”
“She entrusted to each other.”
He swallows hard and blushes, his chest moves quicker and he half closes his eyes.
I stroke his cheek with the back of my hand and brush a strand of hair behind his ear.
“If you have to kiss me, do it quickly.” He mumbles with emotion.
I crave for it. Terribly. Since when?
I bend forward slowly, savouring the few centimetres between our two mouths, the pleasure building inside my lower belly with anticipation. I intertwine our fingers, caressing gently the sweetness of his naked stomach with the tip of my finger and finally I slightly part my lips to kiss his mouth.
He moans sensually and answers clumsily, his hand flat on the mattress. He doesn’t dare moving, leaving me the initiative of our mutual exploration. He’s sweet and delicious. How did I manage to sleep so many nights by his side, ignoring the taste of his lips, I wonder.
As his hand grips my shoulder to deepen our kiss, I forget everything else. I don’t even know why I refused us this pleasure for so long. I kiss him again and again, my lips discovering the softness of his neck, coming back to the beautiful and unique mole on his chin, reaching his mouth again.
When my lips are burning and too bruised, I lie down and catch my breath. He hovers over me to details me eagerly; our two breaths are still erratic and I reach out to stroke his cheek. He takes advantage of it to rest his head on my shoulder.
“You are tired.” I whisper.
“A bit.”
“So, sleep. Nothing will have changed when you’ll wake up.”
Five seconds later, his head weights on me. I fetch the blanket to cover us and fall asleep at my turn.
TBC...
