AURELIA
and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be
maybe they never will be
She welcomes the flame that is him, ready for him, yearning and understanding. This intimacy, for her, was a rare occurence - and, for once, she felt something. She could feel his deep, low grunts reverberating through their kiss, stifled only by their wrestle of connection. Her hips tightened around him, reacting to the spark that he ignited.
In truth, she wanted his hands to focus on her war-torn parts, on the slices that countered her otherwise smooth skin. Normally, she wore them with a certain sense of pride and appreciation for her own journey but, now, in this moment of rawness, she only felt insecure about them. The rough, scarred skin would recoil at his touch, tender as it was. And, even if it was her own undoing, it hurt her, made her draw back for that mere moment. Still, she wouldn't, couldn't let it ruin what was happening between them. She ignored it as best she could, appreciating his attentive touch with a longing curl of her body.
The feeling of his tongue entering her mouth, submerging itself in her, made her melt into him even more than she already was. It washed away the distracting aggravation of her own imperfect skin. She met his tongue with her own eagerly, diving into, against, with him.
Eventually, their mouths parted, and a soft breath left her with him. Her eyes opened slightly, peering out at him as he shifted his weight. That sizzling, pulling, pushing, grinding warmth bundled deep within her, making her breath hitch with each intake. She left lines across his back without thinking but, in reality, she was quite happy to make them, deepening their curve into his flesh at the last moment.
He pulled her closer in and she could feel it, that sensation building and pressing against her. Each roll of their hips was better than the last. "Mmh," the moan left her lips in a warm interval, a reaction to his desire to get her there. It was working, she could feel it pulling her into him with each lick of their momentum. Her fingers flexed, toes curled, back arched even more, pushing up into him in an uncontrollable wave of euphoria. A strained whine resounded from her as it washed over her. Her body trembled, her hands clasping and shaking against his skin, unsure of how much more she could take.
In truth, she wanted his hands to focus on her war-torn parts, on the slices that countered her otherwise smooth skin. Normally, she wore them with a certain sense of pride and appreciation for her own journey but, now, in this moment of rawness, she only felt insecure about them. The rough, scarred skin would recoil at his touch, tender as it was. And, even if it was her own undoing, it hurt her, made her draw back for that mere moment. Still, she wouldn't, couldn't let it ruin what was happening between them. She ignored it as best she could, appreciating his attentive touch with a longing curl of her body.
The feeling of his tongue entering her mouth, submerging itself in her, made her melt into him even more than she already was. It washed away the distracting aggravation of her own imperfect skin. She met his tongue with her own eagerly, diving into, against, with him.
Eventually, their mouths parted, and a soft breath left her with him. Her eyes opened slightly, peering out at him as he shifted his weight. That sizzling, pulling, pushing, grinding warmth bundled deep within her, making her breath hitch with each intake. She left lines across his back without thinking but, in reality, she was quite happy to make them, deepening their curve into his flesh at the last moment.
He pulled her closer in and she could feel it, that sensation building and pressing against her. Each roll of their hips was better than the last. "Mmh," the moan left her lips in a warm interval, a reaction to his desire to get her there. It was working, she could feel it pulling her into him with each lick of their momentum. Her fingers flexed, toes curled, back arched even more, pushing up into him in an uncontrollable wave of euphoria. A strained whine resounded from her as it washed over her. Her body trembled, her hands clasping and shaking against his skin, unsure of how much more she could take.
but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep
when you're ready to sleep
