I’d like to be lying next to you, my legs tangled around one of your broad thighs. I know they’re all muscle and bone. You know I grind subconsciously as I drift to sleep, and always offer yourself up to ground me.
I’ve put my hand back on top of yours. I’ve wanted to hold it again since that night on the bridge. You twist your fingers into mine, softly holding on, allowing both of us to get just a bit stuck in this moment.
My eyes are closed—I’m so tired these days—but you know I’d be looking at your very soul were they open, so you keep your gaze on me, just to be prepared. Like this, it’s self-preservation, but also a bit of protection on my behalf. If I wake up in your bed with any distress, you want to ease it.
My way of coping with how overwhelming I find this, six months on, is to keep my eyes incredibly shut. Yours is to lean over, suddenly, and kiss my forehead. My nose. Slip your hand from mine to rest on my lower back, urging me to move my hips with a bit more intention. And I give in, because how could I not?
Because I know you’ll catch me when, under your hand and your quiet but by no means whispered praise, I come, clutching wildly for purchase on you. Even as the first waves hit me, you wrap your arms around me and hold me to your chest, thigh unrelenting between mine.
I would normally bask in the absence of noise, of worry, of chaos that follows until I return to my senses, but your arms squeeze me gently as you instruct: “Sleep, you sweet thing.” And so I do.
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Not all of my work is quite this succinct but all of it is this detailed. I’m looking to write commissions—if you’re interested, send me a note!
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/gkjzq2/something_i_wrote_for_a_man_from_the_past_if_i
Beautiful and captivating