He finally allowed me to move my arms, my hands reaching around him, sliding along his strong back. I tried to move my head back but he clearly wasn’t quite ready to meet my eyes just yet as he held firm to the fistful of my hair wrapped in his fingers, that glorious scent of him filling me tucked into his neck as I was.
I’ve noticed his physique before, it’s difficult not to, but to touch it, feel it tense and relax under my fingertips - there are no words for that. It felt like each individual sinew of muscle, ligament and tendon existed underneath that shirt, long pathways to follow from the base of his spine to the tops of his shoulders where I found new ones to explore. A new tense strand to rub and soften, yielding under the pressure of my hands.
I made circles and patterns as I felt my way, sometimes it was welcomed, others he tried to dodge, some gave me a chuckle and a wriggle. Each time though I found my hands returned to his waist. So i rested them there for a moment, stood still as we were, but felt my own heart begin to race, my breath go shallow and quicken. I tugged at his shirt, emboldened by the invisibility of his hold on me. One side came free easily, but he tensed, a lot. “Tell me again”, he said. I froze. I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say, but I tugged hard on the other side and repeated the only words I’d said to this point: “I’ve missed you too?”
My hands found warm firm flesh, and suddenly everything changed. As urgent as my hands were to find their way up, I slowly touched him. The hands that held me moved and changed position. I was against a wall instead of standing in the middle of the hall and was incredibly grateful of the support. Still I couldn’t raise my head as he towered above me, it being propped against the wall now and that body of his pressed against mine while his own hands explored me.
And then I felt it, his hot breath replaced by warm lips. His hands rocked my hips, thumbs tucked down inside the hand of my jeans finding a home perfectly laced inside my hipbones. His palms circled my pelvis like they’ve always been there holding me together. His fingers dug into me, clenching and releasing, pulling me closer to him every time.
Doubt crept in about then. Sanity was leaving me rapidly. He’d thought about this, I hadn’t. But his lips, oh how they danced across my neck and my shoulder. His teeth, his tongue, nibbling, grazing, biting. He wasn’t asking anymore. Rushes of emotion, adtenaline, and deep aching arousal are filling me up. I need to stop this, soon.
My hands tighten against him, trying to push him off, his body pushes harder into mine in a negative reply. I can feel him against me now, feel what this is doing to him. I try again, knowing fully this isn’t what I want, but turn my head this time and drop my own lips to his neck hoping to reassure him. It works, though I almost don’t want to stop now that my lips have touched his skin.
His hands move, one returning to the small of my back and oh so gently holding me to him, the other slides lower and cups my ass lifting me to him. “Tell me again, please,” he says. I smile against his shoulder, taking a deep breath to take in his scent, melting against him completely. “I’ve missed you too.” A long breath, “Are you sure?” he asks me. “Very much so,” I reply without hesitation.
Slowly, almost painfully, he starts to raise his head. His body starts to pull away from mine and immediately I miss it. This giant before me uncurls himself from around me and I’m reminded just how much he must have been bent double to reach me and hold me as he did. my hands move to his front and cheekily slide under his shirt, splayed fingers wide across his belly, moving to a soft fuzziness on his chest which feels almost wrong against the hardness beneath.
My eyes are where my hands are, I darent look up yet. I just want to touch him, and have him touch me. I feel him tremble as my hands go lower, one of his coming to grasp my wrist and hold mine still. I still haven’t met his eyes. He brings my hand higher, holds it flat against his heart. I can feel it beating against the palm of my hand, a slow steady rhythm calming my nerves yet the sight of his flesh revealed underneath heightening my arousal as inch by inch his shirt is pulled up further.
I can feel a burning on my head, my face, my body as his eyes search me. He takes a breath beneath my fingers, a long unsteady one, one of those ones that trembles a little. His heart goes a little faster, I can feel it. His other hand leaves my ass, slowly letting me back down, and finds its way to my face cupping that cheek instead. I lean into that tough calloused hand, his thumb stroking me, searching me, arousing me, feel him find my lips, the roughness of his fingertip leaving hot flesh in its wake.
He finds my chin, and slowly raises my head until my eyes meet his. “Tell me just one more time,” he asks of me. His thumb is back on my lips again. Those lines etched on his face seem hard, unhappy almost. His eyes are unreadable, quite simply searching my own. “I’ve missed you too”, I finally reply, and feel his heart jump in reply. Neither one of us moves. So we just look.