I wrote about how I am trying to figure out why it feels strange to write about bambi, but I still want to do it because those moments gave me something lovely, even if they were only fleeting.
So here they are: random snippets of heat and beauty…
He sweetly fell asleep early one evening, one wrist still cuffed to the bed. I was not tired yet, I watched him for a little while, then left him to sleep. I wandered in to pet him every now and then. He would snuffle softly when I touched him, dead to the world. He slept peacefully there all night.
In the middle of hurting him, I admonished him for being so fucking pretty.
“It’s your own fault. If you weren’t so pretty when I hurt you, I would stop doing it…”
“So it’s my fault then?”
I nodded, tried not to laugh. “Totally your fault, you bring it on yourself…”
“What if I did this instead?” He made a ridiculous derp face.
I laughed. “Yeah, do that… that’s not sexy at all…”
I hurt him again, his body tensed and reared off the bed, eyes closed, his face a picture of concentration to deal with it, he almost snarled. So fucking sexy, I can’t even…
I let out a huge breath when I stopped, not even realising that I was holding my breath. His body relaxed, he looked at me.
“You’re so fucking pretty!” I whispered, awe, wonder.
He groaned. Then he derp-faced at me, each expression more ridiculous than the last.
I laughed. “Too late.”
He was up before me, came padding out of the lounge room when he heard me get up. I looked up, toothbrush in my mouth… clocked his eager expression, delighted to see me, I smiled.
“Coffee?” he asked and went to turn back to the kitchen.
My mouth full of toothpaste, I shook my head, “Uh uh,” and went back into the bathroom.
He came in behind me, wrapped himself around me as I finished brushing my teeth, feeling his warmth pressed tightly against my back, pulling me into him. I spat, wiped my mouth, took his hand, led him back into the bedroom.
Standing on the beach after a swim, he was looking down at me (and I loved that, the ‘looking down’, oh my, so tall!), and with a fingertip, he traced the salt water droplets as they ran down my neck and down between my breasts. One rivulet, then another. He sighed with pleasure.
His face when I slapped him for the first time, shock as he looked up at me. And when I moved my hand again, how he cringed, squeezed his eyes closed, screwed his whole face up, waiting for another blow. It just about broke my heart. His questioning expression when he hesitantly peeked up at me again when a second strike didn’t come. He looked afraid to ask if there would be more.
Petting him, his naked body curled up tightly close to me, his cheek resting against my thigh. He almost purred, totally relaxed, his arms wrapped around my legs, eyes closed. I stroked the smooth curve of his arse, enjoying the feel of him, he moved ever so slightly with each stroke. Murmuring softly that he liked the way I touched his butt, my return whisper that I liked it too.
We got out of the car at the markets. I told him to give me a hug and moved into him. He pulled me to him and held me close, full body contact, we fit well like this. I felt him relax his grip when he thought we were done, I refused to let go, hanging onto him tightly. I could almost hear his eyeroll as he conceded that the hug was not over yet.
We had been playing, I had no idea how long it had been, time passes so quickly, I don’t pay attention. Hours probably. I was hungry, had slowed things to a stop, had probably muttered something about food. I got up and he followed me out of the bedroom. We were both slow, sluggish, a little disorientated.
He stopped me in the hallway, pushed me gently up against the wall, his hand cupped the back of my head, he reached down for a kiss. I opened up to his tender mouth: the kissing, oh my god. So good! It went quickly from exploratory, gentle, ending-kisses to something else. I felt the change in his body from languid to sudden urgency. He pushed me into the wall, fucking up against me, insistent, I pushed back at him, a hand around his throat. Suddenly we were shoving up against each other, aggressively attacking each others’ mouths, both on the offensive, he was shifting his body to manoeuvre me back into the bedroom.
I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him back into the bedroom.
He would not look at me sometimes before play, avoiding meeting my eyes, made shy and maybe a little scared.
“Are you hiding?” I asked him.
He nodded, looking at the floor.
“Why are you hiding?”
He hesitated. “…because… you’re going to…” His voice tailed off. He didn’t even really know what I was going to do.
Oh my god… so adorable!
Sitting at the pub, we changed seats to a high bench overlooking the beach. I made appreciative noises about the better view from here.
He said, “*This* is why I like this spot”, and he scootched right up against me on the bench so that our thighs were pressed together.
He smiled at me, I leaned into him.
*smile* Guh… so lovely…