It's late ... but you're finally getting home. The adrenaline is wearing off, and you slowly unlock the front door. You've had a good night, but now it's time for sleep. Just as you crack the door open, you hear your phone alert you to another message.
Too tired to worry about where you are, you simply lean against the door frame, pulling the phone out and checking it, assuming that one of your friends that you just left needed to say something. Instead it's me - and the message is a simple "Still awake?"
You smirk, amused that I would write. And that the message would show up just as you're getting home. You type back "barely" and hit the send button. You don't even finish getting completely through the door before another message comes in. "Feel like waking up? ;)"
You roll your eyes, thinking about what to say, still at the door.
You tilt your head, not considering that you could move inside. What to say ..? How to respond ...?
And then you hear a voice from outside, behind you. "Feel like waking up?" You can almost hear the smirk before you turn and see me standing out in your yard, smiling - one hand in my pocket, but another out in front, holding my cell phone.
You're not even sure what to do, how to act. "I can't believe you showed up here."
I walk confidently up to the door, putting my phone away and resting my hand on the frame as I step up next to you. "Hi you. How's your adrenaline?" The grin spreads across my face even as I'm talking.
And it's contagious ... your grin breaks out before you answer. "I _was_ getting tired ..."
I take the final step up to you, letting my hand drift down from the door frame to your arm. Resting it gently on your sleeve, I lean in and kiss you. You hesitate for a moment, then relax and reply in kind.
I pull back, just far enough so that you can see the smile break out on my face, then I lean in again, this time kissing a little harder, but also pushing with my hands. You take a few steps backward and then you hear the door shut as I close it with my foot.
You pull back, smirking, but waking up. I see your eyes start to sparkle a little as you begin backing up from me. Kicking off your shoes ... dropping the jacket that you were wearing ... you keep moving back from me, but your grin keeps getting bigger as I follow.
"Are you trying to run away?" I ask - but you don't reply. You simply glance behind you, then keep moving. As you cross through a doorway, you bring up one hand, and beckon me forward.
I follow you into your bedroom, keeping eye contact with you as you move farther away from the door. "Thinking of one of those stories that I sent you?" And you still don't answer.
You stand near the foot of the bed, waiting, watching. Without the reply, I can't make a smart-ass comment, but I'm quickly losing interest in being a smart-ass. The laughs and the humor all fade away.
I step out of my shoes ... let my jacket drop to the floor ... and slowly walk around the bed, following you as you keep backing up. I lift an eyebrow slightly as you keep moving away, but the smirk on your face convinces me to keep following.
You stop, as far away from your door as you can get ... and I catch up to you. I put my hands on your shoulders and push, hard enough to back you the last few inches against the wall.
My hands stay on your shoulders, but I bend my arms and move up next to you, kissing harder this time ... not dangerous, but aggressive. You let the feeling start to build, but suddenly gasp as I use my hand to press against you through your dress.