“I lose myself a little in you… or are you lost in me?”
“I don’t feel lost”– the way he stares down, I can see that he means it. Those eyes are just as pretty, but they aren’t the same eyes as before, the ones that were glued to his feet.
I reach up, brush a finger along the bone of his cheek. “Well…”, I murmur, “If I need finding, I’ll know who to– Mm!”– he cuts me off with a deeper thrust of his hips– the bubbly shock of it zips up my spine, takes my mouth for its own– “Mm…”– it’s the best I can do, to moan. Words are far behind me, now.
There– his lips are moving– he’s about to say it. They always do. “Heidi, I lo–”
“Shh”– it’s my turn to stop him– my finger jumps from his cheek to his lips– “Shh… no, you don’t”
He frowns– “But I do! From the moment I first saw, you I–”
“You don’t”, I repeat, “And you haven’t”– my other hand slinks up around the back of his waist, tugs him in deeper– “But don’t worry. You will. I’ll make you”– I gaze up at him, I make that face I’ve learned to make, the one that drives them mad– I stare straight into his eyes and say “fuck me” in that way I’ve learned to say it– and he stops.
He just… stops.
I didn’t expect that.
He stops, and his eyes, all at once they’re back to how they were before. He can’t seem to look at me.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing”
“You stopped”
His cheeks begin to flush– his hips begin to move again– “Sorry, I–”
“No, wait. Why did you stop?”– I take a gentle hold of his chin and I turn his face, this way and that, trying to get his eyes to meet mine, but they won’t. “Tell me what’s wrong”
“It’s stupid”
I shake my head– “Hey. I promise you, it’s not stupid”
“It’s stupid and I’m stupid”
“Hey!”– louder, this time– this gets him to glance at me, if only for a moment– “No boy gets to call himself stupid with his cock in me because if he’s stupid, I’m stupid for letting him put it there. And I am NOT stupid”
He nods– “No, you aren’t”
“Tell me what’s wrong”
For what feels like a very long time, he’s silent. I can feel him going limp, but I don’t say anything; the taste of the air has changed. Finally– “I never danced at parties”
“Oh”– it’s clear now. This is about to become one of those nights. I wriggle my hips backwards, let him slide out, and when he’s out, I sit up, get our heads at the same level. “You never danced at parties?”– I echo it back to him; he has more to say.
“I always wanted to. Hell, people asked me to– I’ve had girls ask me to dance”– the way he says it makes it sound like something he thinks about a lot.
“If I saw you at a party, I’d ask you to dance”, I tell him, and I mean it. The heat of the moment is draining away, the butterflies are leaving my stomach, but that’s alright. That’s what toys are for.
“Thanks”, he tells me, and he means it, “But I’d say no”– and before the words worm into me– “Not because of you! I’d want to say yes to you, but… god, it’s so stupid”
“I already told you, it’s not stupid. Stop calling it stupid”
“Have you ever wanted to dance or sing or be in a play, but you just… you just *know* that you’re going to do it wrong? Your hips and your elbows and your knees are just going to go knocking pathetically about– you’re going to miss the rhythm, or you won’t know that one great dance-move that everyone else is doing and when you try it everyone laughs and no one will tell you why?”
“Yeah, I’ve been there”
“Well, I…”– is he… no, is he crying?– “I’m there right now. I’m going to do it wrong and you’re going to laugh at me and tell everyone”– and before the words worm in– “I know you won’t! I know! Not you, that’s not who you are, I know that, I *know* that, but–”
“It’s okay”– definitely one of those nights.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/g4d6wp/just_practicing