|Compromising Positions | Into the Black | Contact|
TouchNotes: Tiny little PWP that just would not leave me alone.
Series: Touching and Feeling
You take my hand in both of yours and flip it over so that it is palm up in your hands. You stroke it gently with your fingers, encouraging mine to open. I am already trembling under your touch. You massage my palm with your thumbs, your dark eyes locked on mine. Your fingers slide up to my wrist and unbutton the cuff of my shirt. I gasp quietly when your fingers brush the inside of my wrist.
Holding my hand steady, you lean down and brush your soft lips against the tips of my fingers, and I shudder as warmth flows through my body with each grazing touch. You pull back and smile softly at me, knowing what this does to me. You slide your fingers up to the thin flesh of my wrist and caress it with light, feathery touches. I can feel the flush on my face as my breathing speeds up. I'm getting hard just from this, just from your touch, as always. My other hand clenches and unclenches at my side as my desire for you builds and builds with every touch of your fingers.
You lean forward again and press your lips against the inside of my wrist. I gasp sharply and twitch when your tongue flicks out across my skin. You look deep into my eyes and I see my own desire reflected back at me. You take the sides of my sleeve in both hands and pull sharply, ripping the seam. The show of strength fuels my lust and my body sways towards yours. My knees are trembling and I put my other hand on your shoulder to steady myself.
With light fingers you trace the veins in my arm up to the thin skin on the inside of my elbow. You take my arm in both of your hands and once again press your lips to my flesh. With every touch of your lapping tongue my cock twitches, leaking pre-come onto my stomach. I am so hard I ache.
You look up at me and I gasp at the fire I see burning in your eyes. I plead with my eyes and when that doesn't work, I plead with my mouth.
"Please, Mal," I say breathlessly, clutching at your shirt.
"Please what, Simon?" You ask, determined to make me say what I want, what I need. You press your lips against the inside of my elbow and start to suck gently, not enough to bruise but just enough to make me quiver. I moan loudly and pull at your shirt. It's more than I can stand.
"Oh, God, Mal. Touch me. Touch my cock, make me come," I whisper.
You smile your most devastating smile and cup the back of my head with your hand. You press your lips to my neck and slide your tongue up to my ear. You lick the edge of my ear and say huskily, "Your wish is my command."
Dragging your mouth across my cheek to my lips, you capture my mouth in a crushing kiss. I grab your shirt with both hands and pull you to me, trying to devour your mouth with my own. As our tongues wrestle wetly, you run firm fingers across my erection. Finding the head of my cock through my pants, you press hard with your thumb. That's all it takes. I come in my pants, moaning your name into your mouth. I go limp in your arms and press my face against your neck as you stroke my back.
I arch into your caress. I can never get enough of it. You take me by the hand and lead me to your bunk. The night has just begun. I am putty in your hands, waiting, living, breathing, dying for your touch.