If you want to, take me

My consciousness awakes from dreams in which it was rollicking on snowy slopes. But where am I? Ah yes.

A freezing cold morning. Outside it’s looking grey. Will we get fresh snow?

‘Good morning,’ I murmur drowsily.

My beloved hears that I have woken up. He slides closer to me. I lift up my duvet, and he comes to lie right next to me, warm against warm.

I close my eyes again and put an arm over him.

But there is more. More than smiling morning side-by-side. I can feel it. He moves. He is restless. He seeks closer than close.

I ask him ‘Do you want to ask something?’

The answer comes.

He says softly ‘If you want to, take me.’

And several things happen inside me at once.

For one thing, abstract joy. His word choice and what it represents. If you want to, take me. His talent for submission. That he says it.

While I’m still asking myself whether right now I want to take him or not, the answer already shows up. Like a wide field of glittering golden speckles, swimming from front to back through my perception, delight is let loose in my brain.

I bend over him to kiss him, so good.

Lust unfurls within my body. There he is, this wonderful man. He will do what I want. I stretch, prop up my upper body on my arms.

At the same time part of my thought pursues logistic questions: It’s so cold! Close window and turn on heating. Did we bring condoms and lubricant? We did. So, probably no skiing this morning. Perhaps in the afternoon? We’ll see. If I should feel like beating him, we didn’t bring anything though, did we? Sure, we have my hairbrush.

I want to see all of him. Now. I have to tell him to take off his t-shirt.

And arousal and desire and fondness and planning of mundane details awaken, all at the same time.

Copyright (C) Ranai Pahav 2011

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Out of nowhere

There it happened again.

The contour of his throat rose in her line of sight. She reached over and touched the Adam’s apple with two fingers.

His hands moved in reflex. The movement was checked. He pressed them down next to his body. Ever so slightly, he raised his chin.

Lazy afternoon in the sun lying side by side on the covers, contracting in an instant. A pull of white desire between her clitoris and solar plexus. All things outside them faded to nothing, her consciousness poured into their halo.

She scrambled to sit on top of him, his hips between her thighs, and pulled his shirt up. She lay an ear on his heart, his curls caressing her face as she listened to its acceleration. Raising her head again, she looked into his open eyes. She made her nostrils flare as she inhaled.

He responded by moving his hands together, trapping them under his body. His head turned sideways, he raised his chin all the way and bared his throat to her.

It pulled her down, flooding her with tenderness and yearning to destroy. With closed incisors, she touched his Adam’s apple, touched once more in an impression of a bite, pulled away and snapped her teeth together. The sound made him flinch, and she felt the swift jerk of his body between her legs.

She took his face between her hands. Again they regarded each other. Her eyes opened up, showed the abyss, showed everything to him, her prey and accomplice.

Her teeth bared, she snarled. A dry, rasping noise.

They knew: anything could happen.

Copyright (C) Ranai Pahav 2010

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