Skorpíos
Desire.
I gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face as the morning light slowly spreads across your body before me. The shadows dancing along your chest from your slight angle of leaning into me. The sheets that are pooled at your waist, allowing your small trail of fine blonde hair to disappear beneath them. I could feel the warmth of your body radiating onto my own. I took in the small slope of your nose, rounded at the end, like a button. Your lips, so soft, so smooth and perfectly symmetrical—I gently brush a fingertip against them.
I let my finger trail up you cheek and take in your cheekbones. Chiseled to perfection. Then I let my finger trail down your jaw, such a strong line it is. I feel the stubble of your fine facial hair—I always loved it when you went unshaved. I glance down at your chest, the vast plane before me. Your pale, creamy skin glowed in the morning sun and I couldn’t help but run a finger from your collar bone down to your navel. I notice a small sheen of goosebumps form over you as my finger glides over that one spot on your abdomen.
I gently run my finger down that trail of hair, wanting to go further then where it ends in the sheets. I dare not wake you though, you need your rest. I let my eyes trail up your body once again, watching as your chest rises and falls in your light steady breathing. I place my palm over your heart and feel it beating. The slow and steady beat—I glance up to your face once again and another strand of hair has fallen. I bring my hand up to brush it away once again. I trailed my fingertip over your eyebrows; all of the hair on your body was soft and very fine.
Your lashes, long but not feminine, lay against your upper cheek, your eyelids moving on occasion due to your eyes moving as you dream. Your lips part and out comes a breathy, quiet moan. Goosebumps flutter across your torso once again and I notice your fingers flinch. I let my eyes dance down your toned arms, my fingertip trailing your fine, almost invisible arm hair. Your forearms a pearly cream and your hands, your beautiful hands. Your long fingers, nimble fingers—fingers that have trailed over every inch of my body in fits of raw passion.
I loved your fingers. I loved watching you use them, whether it be to dance across the keys of a piano, to smooth the invisible wrinkles of your clothes, to trail down my own torso as you buried them in my patch of hair just above my—oh how you worked your fingers. Your fingertips always felt like butterfly kisses when you trailed them down my back, over my hips, down my chest, over my cheeks—I always melted beneath your touch. I also loved the taste of your fingers, that sweet saltiness that was irreplaceably your own.
I loved to trail my tongue along the side of your neck, tasting even more of what was uniquely you. Even more so when our tongues danced together. You ensnared each and every one of my senses and I doubt you even know. I crave your taste, I long for your touch, I ache to hear you whisper in that breathy tone I adore so much those three words. I have eyes for only you and I am enamoured with the scent that fills my nostrils when I bury my nose within your patch of fine hair below your navel. You’ve bewitched me, body and soul.
I hear another quick breath as your lips part and your eyes are fluttering. Your chest rises and falls a bit more rapidly now—you’re waking up. I lean over you, taking in the beauty of your face. I place a gentle kiss to your nose, then to your forehead. I feel you stretch beneath me, arching your back as you move your arms and smile as another small moan escapes between your lips. I make sure my eyes are on your own, lighting up with anticipation as I watch you crinkle your brow. I watch in pure astonishment as you slowly open your eyes.
You blink in rapid succession, becoming aware of your now conscious state. Your intense gray orbs meet my vibrant green ones and I watch as the corners of your eyes crinkle, letting me know you’re smiling at me. Of all the bits of your body, your eyes are my favorite—especially now. They’re alight with pure joy, pure love, and pure ecstasy in the knowledge I’m the first thing you see each and every morning. You press your lips to mine and mumble a greeting against them as your hands entangle themselves in my unruly hair.
As my eyes open, revealing your own, I can’t help but to smile. My heart quickens as your fingers still busy themselves in my hair, my own hands grasping the sheets beneath us as I hold myself over you. I keep my gaze locked on your own, watching in extreme fascination as your eyes begin to cloud with desire. Your pupils dilate, the gray edges darken and that long, drawn out, throaty moan that escapes your lips—I cannot help but to fall in love with you yet again as you press your lips to my own in a brief open-eyed kiss. I yearn to wake up next to you like this each and every morning as you’ve promised.
I let my finger trail up you cheek and take in your cheekbones. Chiseled to perfection. Then I let my finger trail down your jaw, such a strong line it is. I feel the stubble of your fine facial hair—I always loved it when you went unshaved. I glance down at your chest, the vast plane before me. Your pale, creamy skin glowed in the morning sun and I couldn’t help but run a finger from your collar bone down to your navel. I notice a small sheen of goosebumps form over you as my finger glides over that one spot on your abdomen.
I gently run my finger down that trail of hair, wanting to go further then where it ends in the sheets. I dare not wake you though, you need your rest. I let my eyes trail up your body once again, watching as your chest rises and falls in your light steady breathing. I place my palm over your heart and feel it beating. The slow and steady beat—I glance up to your face once again and another strand of hair has fallen. I bring my hand up to brush it away once again. I trailed my fingertip over your eyebrows; all of the hair on your body was soft and very fine.
Your lashes, long but not feminine, lay against your upper cheek, your eyelids moving on occasion due to your eyes moving as you dream. Your lips part and out comes a breathy, quiet moan. Goosebumps flutter across your torso once again and I notice your fingers flinch. I let my eyes dance down your toned arms, my fingertip trailing your fine, almost invisible arm hair. Your forearms a pearly cream and your hands, your beautiful hands. Your long fingers, nimble fingers—fingers that have trailed over every inch of my body in fits of raw passion.
I loved your fingers. I loved watching you use them, whether it be to dance across the keys of a piano, to smooth the invisible wrinkles of your clothes, to trail down my own torso as you buried them in my patch of hair just above my—oh how you worked your fingers. Your fingertips always felt like butterfly kisses when you trailed them down my back, over my hips, down my chest, over my cheeks—I always melted beneath your touch. I also loved the taste of your fingers, that sweet saltiness that was irreplaceably your own.
I loved to trail my tongue along the side of your neck, tasting even more of what was uniquely you. Even more so when our tongues danced together. You ensnared each and every one of my senses and I doubt you even know. I crave your taste, I long for your touch, I ache to hear you whisper in that breathy tone I adore so much those three words. I have eyes for only you and I am enamoured with the scent that fills my nostrils when I bury my nose within your patch of fine hair below your navel. You’ve bewitched me, body and soul.
I hear another quick breath as your lips part and your eyes are fluttering. Your chest rises and falls a bit more rapidly now—you’re waking up. I lean over you, taking in the beauty of your face. I place a gentle kiss to your nose, then to your forehead. I feel you stretch beneath me, arching your back as you move your arms and smile as another small moan escapes between your lips. I make sure my eyes are on your own, lighting up with anticipation as I watch you crinkle your brow. I watch in pure astonishment as you slowly open your eyes.
You blink in rapid succession, becoming aware of your now conscious state. Your intense gray orbs meet my vibrant green ones and I watch as the corners of your eyes crinkle, letting me know you’re smiling at me. Of all the bits of your body, your eyes are my favorite—especially now. They’re alight with pure joy, pure love, and pure ecstasy in the knowledge I’m the first thing you see each and every morning. You press your lips to mine and mumble a greeting against them as your hands entangle themselves in my unruly hair.
As my eyes open, revealing your own, I can’t help but to smile. My heart quickens as your fingers still busy themselves in my hair, my own hands grasping the sheets beneath us as I hold myself over you. I keep my gaze locked on your own, watching in extreme fascination as your eyes begin to cloud with desire. Your pupils dilate, the gray edges darken and that long, drawn out, throaty moan that escapes your lips—I cannot help but to fall in love with you yet again as you press your lips to my own in a brief open-eyed kiss. I yearn to wake up next to you like this each and every morning as you’ve promised.