Bond

Her hair is damp enough that even in this pale light it's two shades darker than mine.

It clings to her back, weighted down on her pale skin. She breathes heavily, but with a kind of composure. Even in this state of fatigue she keeps her wits about her. Never letting down her guard, not truly. She just trades the full mask for a smaller one and tells me it's the real her.

There's no point not giving. It's the only time you can have a woman, truly have a woman, is when she lets you see her. And that's all you'll see.

It's better not to dwell on things we'll never have.

My hand slides up and down the curvature on the small of your back, riding up and down. I stroke with one finger, two, three. I tickle a little until she gives out a small moan, my cue to resume stroking her. And I do.

I try and show her I adore her with the back of my knuckles as I drag them up and down her spine. With my fingertips, as they press into her shoulders. With the whole of my hands as they cup the sides of her neck, or glide along her thighs. Or swim through that matted, dark fur she calls hair.

She shifts, and turns her face to me. Curling up on her side, she places her elbow into the mattress and the side of her face into her hand. She has beautiful eyes, not that I can see them now. All I can see is the dim light reflecting off them. I stare into them wondering if she can see mine, or if we're just looking at one another. I can hear a smile. A little crack that her lips make, when she lifts them so high that they part.

She shifts, and makes her way to the base of my feet. And then, I'm just a man, with his feet planted on the bed, and his back against the headboard in her room. And I wouldn't rather be anyone else.

I can see her face more clearly now, or the outline of it. It's enough to fill in the blanks. Of course I don't have to be looking at her face to see it. Sometimes, I can't get rid of it. Sometimes I spend the whole day trying to chase it away, to focus on something else that matters more at the moment. But it always comes back. I think about her face and I smile and I hum to myself. And even now, trying to be so in control, I look at the soft edges of her features and I smile.

She taps my foot playfully with her free hand, drumming a little beat on it, then the other. I try to dodge her next swing with a pivot of my ankle but she's too quick. She taps it harder and laughs. We repeat the new game a few times before she stops. A somber mood descends and she swings her body to the edge of the bed.

"I'm really glad you came back." She says it with a tongue that I've come to recognize is difficult for her to muster.

"I'm glad too."

I don't know how I sound when I say it, though. I'm so trying to sound strong. I'm always trying to sound strong.

She takes my ankles in her hands and she pushes them apart with a slow easy force. When parted whe slides over on her stomach between them and places a kiss on my left ankle, then turns her head and kisses the same spot on my right side. She kisses her way in a tennis match fashion, her lips pressing harder the more muscle and skin she encounters. By the time she's climbed to my knees her arms are buckling under the lack of strength. She stops to grin.

She looks so different when does, girlish and playful. She presses against my knees to open them up and pouts when I fight to hold my position. But it doesn't take her long to rise to her knees and grunt and force them apart a few more inches before placing her hands on my chest and leaning in to kiss me. We kiss for ages. We kiss for an entire day and night cycle to get right back to this moment in the darkness. Or at least, that's how it feels.

Then she pushes herself off me and puts her hands atop each knee. She kisses her way down my thighs, nibbling and biting and pressing the whole of her face against them as she goes. She stops,then giggles, and starts kissing her way back up to my knees before moving down again. When there is little room left to negotiate, she brushes the tip of her nose against my cock, then she swings from one side to the other. Each bounce makes more and more of her face brush up against me, until the whole of it presses against me and her lips are kissing my balls.

She is gentle, and not at all playful. Her hands come up to grab my hips and her kisses are exquisite and passionate. Each one makes me feel that there's nothing else that she'd rather be doing. Her tongue flickers around the outline of my ball-sack before she inhales, in the left side of her mouth, and sucks.

I moan. She moans in return, sending vibrations through me, making my already spent cock shoot up as hard and tall as it can. She climbs my cock with kisses, her thumb and fingertips digging into my waist as she takes the tip into her mouth. But she's done teasing, and she only sucks on the tip for a moment before she starts rocking back and forth, taking more and more of me into her with every thrust. Her hair shifts like waves in the ocean at night, and I can see nothing of her. It doesn't last long.

She moves back and forth to take half of me and continues at that pace. Tip to half, tip to half. Faster and harder. I moan and once again, she does so in return. She goes faster and faster, the sensation too much to bear.

"Stop." I say it with some authority but she continues, so I grab her by hair and pull. She whimpers but continues to bob up and down. So I weave my fingers between the strands and peel her off until she's looking up at me. Now I can see her face clearly, eyes wide with some mixture of want and fright.

"Tell me you're mine." I say it with a low roar in my throat. She says nothing so I pull her hair back further and lean in. "Tell me. That. You're. Mine."

"I'm yours." She whispers it from the back of her throat. I take her by her shoulders and spin her onto her back so hard she emits a little yelp. I press her into the mattress and push my lips against hers. I kiss her hard, and then harder. I try and drink her through her lips as her hands come up to the back of my head, then to the side of my face. I stroke the front of her neck with my thumb as I move between her legs, my knees getting between hers. Then I release her shoulders and move my hand right down to her pussy.

From the outside she is already slick, wanting and ready. I cricle around her clit all the same before pushing a single finger in and out of her. I mimic her earlier pace with my own, stroking in and out, just to tease her a little. She doesn't beg, or plead, she just looks up at me like I'm the only man she's ever known. I guide myself into her and her expression softens, eyes closing. Before I'm even a little bit inside she's spreading her legs and moving her hands above her head.

"Hold me down." She says before I'm even halfway in. I brace myself with my hands on her hips as I push in enough to feel comfortable, then I take my hands and push them against her wrists until they are constrained against the sheets. That push makes it easy, natural to slide into her. Little by little. She is moaning openly beneath me, her pussy stroking and releasing with every push. She is like no other I've ever been with, and I imagine, like none I ever will.

Ever inch I push into her reminds me that this is the best I've ever had. It's natural from her too, she isn't even trying. She's lost in her own pleasure, arms rising to push against mine, and I can't wait to lose myself in her. So I push, a little harder with every thrust, and it builds. First a little pressure, then a little speed. I want to feel the whole of her, everything she has to offer, all she can take. The buildup begins.

My cock, already stiff as can be, feels more rigid as it's stroked by her and propelled by me. I lean down fully now, my body entirely over hers, a kind of domination as my weight begins to help with every downward thrust. She's bound beneath my hands and she starts pushing up to meet me as I slide in and out of her, and pulses begin to run wild. I kiss her hard and fully on the mouth, growling as I do, my cock making its way down as far as it can go.

Each time I reach the depths of her she lets out a little whimper, a little moan, and they're coming faster now. My cock aches, heats up. My ass tightens. My eyes close. I become nothing else but this moment. Just the feeling of being inside her, the want to pull out, and the pleasure to slam back in. And that's the word for it now. Slamming. Faster, harder, to my limit and beyond it.

She says something but I don't hear it over the sounds that we're making, the wetness that I'm pushing into, the bed's rhythmic thuds. Her legs arch up and wrap around me and I'm constrained, so I use it. I stop fighting it. I push into her with more short, rapid bursts. It doesn't last long. She starts moaning and the last bit of control is lost. Her pussy spasms around me and her hot breath hits me in the face. She is screaming, wailing, moaning. And I'm growling into her.

A few seconds longer and I feel the buildup release from the ankles up. I come into her like a drowning man reaching for the shore. I hold myself up with a trembling, shaking grip at the expense of her poor little wrists. The cum moves into her in waves, and when last of it is spent, I move the flats of my hands to the mattress and push in and out of her a little bit more.

She says to stop, but it's only a faint whisper, and I pretend not to hear. These slow strokes continue until a kind of fog envelops me. I pull out, roll onto my side, and look at her face as she draws deep heavy breaths in.

We stay there for a few moments, I can't say how long, before she slides her body back towards me devoid of the grace she just possessed. When her face is under mine I kiss her and she giggles. She makes a kind of pucker noise against the air and we kiss again. And again.

Sometime later she is awake enough to look at me. She always gets so embarrassed if she finds me looking at her but she doesn't look away. She holds my gaze for a few moments and then rolls onto her side and presses her back against me. We conform with one another, my arm draped over her, and we spoon.

"We can't keep doing this," she says.

"I know." So I stroke her hair, and she drifts off.