Moving Forward

It's comfortable, sitting against him. Three weeks dating, and tonight I wasn't sure whether I should come home with him, but this feels right. His couch is one of those that you just sink back into, so between his arms and the feel of the loveseat, I feel like I've sunk into a right sized nest.

He can't know that these moments are my favorite in a kiss, or that it's been forever since someone's thought to do this, to slip from the kiss into just sucking my lower lip between his own lips. I love the sensation, the tugging of it, lower lip or upper lip the same--it's tantalizing, and makes me feel delicate in a way that he probably doesn't imagine. And his hands are right, too. He's doing everything right. His right hand is on my face, thumb below my chin, palm against my cheek, and his other is in the small of my back, fingers spread. He tastes like cinnamon.

"I need to breathe," I whisper into his lips, and then I lick my lip automatically when he pulls back, and he smiles as if he knows what I'm thinking, that I don't ever really want to stop this. His eyes are sparkling, and I can't help giggling for a moment when he makes a show of lighting candles on the table in front of the couch.

His profile is sharp, and I realize for the first time that, although he's fairly average looking, his profile is striking, almost classical in strength. He's lighting a third candle when I reach out one hand from my perch on the couch, just to run my fingers down the side of his face. He looks over, and smiles at me, the one crooked tooth in his smile becoming more and more endearing, less annoying than when we first met. His hair is tussled, and I'm glad that I'm the reason for it.

That's a realization. I'm truly glad that I'm the reason for it. It's a brown sandy color, and probably long enough that plenty of others would say he needs a haircut, but I think it's perfect.

"I like your chin," I tell him. He half squints at me, as if he thinks that one glass of wine might have pushed me toward tipsy, but I just laugh back at him. "Seriously--I never noticed before, but it's...well, it's a good chin."

"Well, I'm glad you like it, I guess. I'd rather kiss yours, though." He leans back into me, and I tremor when I feel his hand slip up underneath my shirt in back to make slow circles on my skin. His nibbles on my upper lip force my eyes to close, and I let him turn us until my back is solely against the side of the couch and he's beside me, turned toward me to the point where both of us are more lying down than sitting, his hand having moved around to rest on my bare stomach.

I'm nervous, and I know he can feel it--however right this feels, I know it's fast, and that alone is enough to give me a pause. "Can I take this off?" he asks. He's toying with the hem of my shirt, and I know he can tell that I want him to, to see me--his reluctant question is only because of my nerves.

"I...yeah." My answer is breathy, and just hearing it makes me blush, because I know he can hear in my voice how I feel about him. Part of me thinks I should just go with things tonight, that no matter what happens tomorrow, I won't regret this because of the way I feel about him. The thinking part of me knows that if the worst happens tomorrow, I may not regret what happened, but I'll be more attached and hurt, having gone through with this.

Still, I lift my arms when he slips my shirt up, and the look on his face looking at me is more than I would have hoped. He's got that set to his mouth that men so often get when're looking at something they want, jaw set and lips half pursed, and though the look on his face is gentle, his eyes are flying, and I know what he's thinking.

"Will...I do want this, but just one step at a time, okay? I'm trying to catch my breath as is." I half laugh and he smiles back at me, and I know I've never seen so much desire in someone's eyes staring into mine.

"Okay, I'm gonna freeze, but you gotta tell me something in the meantime."

He is still, but the hand below my heart isn't anything to help my breath or my heart go slower; I wish I were as relaxed as he seems to be. "Okay, what are you wondering?"

"I'm wondering why you came here with me if you're so nervous--I'm glad you did--I'm just not sure I understand." He looks at me without any trace of a smile for the first time all day or night, and I realize just how strange this may seem.

"I like you, Will, and I trust you. It's just been a long time since I've gotten this close to anyone, and besides the fact that this is moving faster, I'm more...well, attached...than I've ever been anywhere near so early. It's just a little scary for me."

He smiles at me as if he's relieved, and I wonder what he was expecting or afraid that I'd say.

"Is this scary?"

Before I can react, he's slid down until his lips are at the lace trim of my bra, over my breast, toying with the rim, his other hand cupping my other breast. I gasp as his lips move back and forth, the trim slowly being pulled back toward the underwire of the bra and his lips finding their goal. One of my hands has been on his shoulder since we lay back, and my other now finds its way down, pulling up his shirt until my hand can slip beneath it from behind and feel his bare skin. I feel the barest skim of his teeth and my nails drift along his back, back and forth.

One of my knees lifts of its own volition, my leg cocking naturally as my back aches to arch with every breath he's breathing against me. "Hmmm?" He mumbles.

"I don't think...I said anything, at least, I didn't, I didn't, I didn't mean to." I feel him chuckle at my stuttering, though I don't hear it.

"You're beautiful," he says, and I look at him, his eyes back to focusing on mine. "I'm serious. You're smiling like I'm not, but Jesus am I serious."

He's frozen half above me, angled over me with an elbow propping him up beside me and that hand on my back, his other hand resting around my right breast.

"You're overdressed, Will." It's more of a whisper than should be audible, but this close, he hears. He shrugs and sits up partially as I catch the bottom hem of his shirt and let it drift up over his arms and head until we're nearly even. He looks at himself, and at my bra, and raises his eyebrows. I take a breath and nod even as he's reaching behind me with both arms, a loose hug as he fiddles with the snaps on my bra. I have to laugh at his face, because it's taking him longer than it should, but in a way it's a relief that he's no expert at undoing bras blind. Finally it loosens, and his hands move back around me, each holding one side until he's passed the straps around my arms and can drop it over the side of the couch with one arm.

"We're even, now," I breathe into his ear.

"Almost," he says, and smiles at me the way he did the first time we met, when we traded looks past mutual friends at a movie theater. "Take off your earrings." I purse my lips, smiling, and undo them, handing them to him so he can reach behind him to drop them on the coffee table behind us. "And your hair scarf." It's mostly slipped away already, but I reach up and pull it all the way from my hair, handing it to him as well to be dropped with my bra beside the couch. I watch him watching me, and finally I ask if we aren't even yet.

"Yeah, we're there for now," he says, dropping his lips against mine and forming my back back to the couch, half underneath his weight. His left hand is still beneath my back, moving idly around my shoulder blades, his nails brushing my skin enough so that I can feel the tingle of the contact and not be marked at all. His other hand is on the line of my waist, straddling the line between my bare skin and my jeans.

I don't know how long we go on. My breathing is heavy, heavier than his, or at least it seems so, maybe because I can feel my heart beat so vividly, and I wonder if he can, as well. His lips feel as if they've always known mine, and his hands are both relaxed and insistent enough that my brain can't catch its breath anymore than my body can.

He's barefoot, and every few minutes I feel his toes tickling at the bottom of mine, making my whole body twitch with the sensation. He's taller, and has the advantage here, but finally in the midst of our kiss I spring my hands away from his shoulders and aim one for his ribs, the other for the base of his neck, sprinkling my fingers against his skin and giggling already at the moment he breaks the kiss to squirm away from my hands and try to stop them, laughing in gulps of air after the tickling.

He catches my hands fairly quickly, and I'm left thinking I should have predicted this, thinking maybe my subconscious, at least, knew. He's leaning on his elbow, one hand at my cheek, the other hand holding both my wrists just below my breasts. My heart flurries at the helpless position I'm in, but still I know I can trust him not to hurt me.

"Now, why did you do that?" he asks, and I just giggle briefly in response, smiling up at him. He knows he started it and that that's all I could say. He lifts me up halfway, briefly, when he reaches behind me, and I break into struggles when I realize he's going for my scarf. Still, it's only moments before my wrists are tied securely together in the lace scarf that held my hair neatly back two hours ago. "You're stuck."

"Will, come on--I won't tickle you again, I swear."

"And I'm supposed to believe that sort of promise coming from a woman in bondage? Yeah, right." He laughs and his eyes are bright with the entertainment my twisting wrists are giving him. "You're tightening the knots, darlin'." He says, and pets the white skin on the underside of my arm.

"Stop it, that tickles!"

"Really?" We both laugh, and he leans up, just watching me, though I still haven't entirely given up on slipping out of the scarf. "I think you like this."

"Really?" I ask sarcastically. I watch his eyes, and his broad smile, almost feeling as if my predicament is worth seeing the enjoyment on his face, and knowing that means I'm in deeper already than I'd thought I was. "I want to kiss you. Untie this so I can."

"Magic word?"

"Please?"

And he kisses me, my hands crushed between our chests, one of his on my waist and one on my shoulder, my tongue mingled with his and my heart beating at twice the speed it was five minutes ago. My hands flutter at the air, reaching for anything to grasp, at this point just wanting to feel him, and ending splayed against his chest--not pushing away because I don't want this crushing kiss to end, only resting, and feeling his heart beat and the top of his rib cage and his chest move in on and off time to mine.

I moan against him when his hands begin massaging my skin and his teeth close playfully around my lower lip. He sucks harder and pulls my body closer, and I know that he heard the slight moan I meant to stay in my chest. When he pulls back, I can't help leaning up after him, struggling to reach back to his lips once again even as the hand around my waist holds me in place.

"You liked that," he says gruffly.

He smiles at me, and someone else would probably call the look patronizing, but for me it is simply seductive right now, and the twist of his lips that shows he wants to laugh is only more of a reason to drink him in. I wiggle as close to the back of his couch as I can as one of his hands catches the scarf and pulls my wrists up to just above my head. His other hand plays lightly against my skin, trickling nails against me so that I can just feel them, and I'm tingling with those sensations by the time he finally reaches down and kisses my lips lightly, more gently than he's kissed me since the first night we went out on a real date, and not as friends. I'm more breathless after the soft kiss than even before, and I look up to him expectantly, his lips still smiling, but his eyes are more serious, suddenly. "Do you want to keep going? We should stop soon, if tonight's not..."

"I don't think...I don't think you're going to disappear on me tomorrow, regardless."

"No, I'm not." He thinks he knows what's coming--I can see it in his face--and I trust him now more than I've ever trusted anyone.

"Will, I don't want to stop. Knowing you'll be here tomorrow...that's what I needed to know, because this whole night has meant something, and if we go even farther tonight, that's going to mean even more." I look at him, and relief slips through me when I see him smile without any hesitation at what I've just said.

"I'm glad. I want all this to mean a great deal." With that, he rolls to his feet and slips his arms beneath me, picking me up easily and cradling me. I'm starting to stutter out a response, a protest, but he just shakes his head at me with that wonderful smile on his face, obviously biting back laughter at the nerves I'm showing just five feet in the air. "I'm not gonna drop you, hon."

I keep thinking that he really is going to trip, if for no other reason than that he seems to be looking nowhere but at my face. Still, I don't say anything, because right now I can't imagine a heaven that's sweeter than his gaze focused on me. He rests me onto the bed and stands beside me, above me, watching me until I finally blush and look away. He lights candles at the bedside and I can finally see more than a bare silhouette. I wonder again why it's me that he's with.

He undoes his belt, still watching me, and slips out of his jeans, letting them drop to the floor, and suddenly he's standing there in just plaid patterned boxers, and I can't catch my breath. He sits on the edge of the bed and gives me a questioning look, one eyebrow raised. I just blush, but what I say is that we're not even now, and then he laughs and grins down at me.

His fingers unbutton my jeans slowly, and I lift up my hips to allow him to slip them off. They drop onto the floor with his, and then he stretches out beside me, one hand on my face again, the other sliding back and forth across my stomach and then down just to the rim of my underwear. I can feel him hard against my thigh, and there's nothing I want more than to be touching him, especially once his hand slips beneath the elastic of my panties and begins tugging them down.

"Will, untie me, please." He just grins at me.

"You'll have to give me some incentive for a move like that. What are you gonna do if I untie you?"

I laugh up at him. "I'll make it worth your while."

"But how?"

"Will...you untie me, and if it doesn't prove worth it, you can tie me back up right through to tomorrow night."

"I think I'll have to take you up on that one." It only takes him moments to untie me, and I roll over him so he's nearest the wall.

"Lean against the pillow," I tell him, and he lounges back against the wall. I'm nervous, and I've only heard and thought about doing this, but never taken this step or been so aggressive. He half lets and half helps me pull away his boxers, and I just give a half giggle when he reminds me that yet again we're uneven. I shake my head when he reaches for my waist and I slide down until I'm lying beside him, resting my arms on his thighs. I can feel him watching me, but I can't look away from what's directly in front of me, and I know that I'm scared enough that not making a move now might mean I don't make one at all, and I want to.

I lean down, one hand resting on his waist to steady myself and one hand moving lightly up and down his length. I flicker my tongue out to taste the droplet I can see and I hear him take a quick breath. Gaining confidence, I begin running my tongue back and forth along his cock, along the underside and the sides and the top. One of his hands rests on my shoulder and the others is in my hair, lightly holding me, but letting me move as I will. I've rarely thought about doing this, but now that I am, my fingers and my tongue are fascinated by every taste, every ridge, the combination of softness and hardness that is in front of me.

I can feel him breathing in and I know he's trying to breathe evenly when I finally let my lips slide around the tip and play my tongue around his head, just tasting, feeling his hand clench and unclench in my hair against my shoulder blade. I slide up, and I can't take all of him in, but I wrap my hand around what I can't reach with my mouth and move back and forth, now letting his hands guide my movements and following his lead. My mouth is getting tired, but I love the taste of him, and I don't slow until I feel him moving back, gripping my shoulders and pulling me up towards him.

The kiss is quick before he moves to my neck and I gasp, both of us out of breath. He flips me to my back, lips still on my neck, and I feel a hand sliding my underwear down until I can kick it away with one leg.

His lips come down hard on mine at the same moment that he pushes into me, and I cry out against his lips. He only slides into me partially, and stops, holding there, and though my eyes are closed, I can feel him watching me as I gasp. I open them, and he inches out. My hands are gripping his shoulders, and when I begin to stretch up for him, wanting to feel his lips and wanting him inside me, he slides back into me, more quickly, and deeper barely.

He whispers 'okay' as a question and I nod, immediately feeling him inch in farther until he's entirely inside me, something I wasn't sure I'd be able to handle when I first saw him.

But each moment that Will pulls away, I want him to come back, faster, and farther, as close as he can be to me. His lips flutter back and forth against my lips, against my neck, and my ears can't tell which gasp is whose or which moan comes from which mouth except for when names are gasped past wet lips.

When I come, he's only moments behind me, and I know our nails are tearing into one another's skin, though we don't feel it now. He collapses half on top of me, and I curl toward him, running my lips over the sweat on his neck and collarbone as I sigh, both of us slowly trying to catch our breath. When our eyes finally meet, I know my smile is moist and self-conscious, just as much as his is entirely confident.

His fingers glide through my hair as he turns onto his back, and I slip my arm over his chest, letting my fingers play and run through his chest hair as he works his fingers in and out of my long tangled hair. I fall asleep like that, the last thing I remember being one hand leaving my back to pull a blanket over both of us, only to return moments later as my breath finally evens out.