The Thrill Is Gone

The curtains in the far corner of the living room had been carelessly left half closed the previous evening, allowing a steady stream of light to flood the apartment with its warmth, but now that the sun had retreated and night had fallen, the only light that was carried inside was that of the moon. It was a gentle light, a soft one whose purpose wasn’t to guide but to cast an ethereal glow. And that was exactly what it did when it fell upon their naked bodies that were tangled within each other on the bed. Harry lay on his belly; his nose buried deep within the pillows as his loud snores filled the bedroom. The soft freckled flesh of his back was where the moonlight danced upon, making its way across his shoulders and down his back. In the light, his skin held an elfish appearance, it was smooth, it was inviting, and from her place beside him, Paulina stared at it with sleep filled eyes.

She was exhausted, yet she forced herself to remain awake for a little while longer. She wanted to remember what it was like to be with him, to remember the outline of his back and the way his muscles relaxed as he slept. There was a part of her that didn’t think he’d be there in the morning. His track record didn’t make it too likely, and although she humored herself by saying that he truly was mad about her, that he fancied her like no other, she couldn’t shake the doubt that at some point during the night, he was going to sneak out of the apartment, and that she would never hear from him again. She hoped that wouldn’t happen. Her feelings for him had grown more than she’d ever expected them to, she was emotionally invested him, and hoped that he was just as invested in her. But if he was to leave, if he was to return to his world, then she wanted to remember that night as best she could, she wanted to look back on the time they spent together, with a smile on her face.

So she stared at him with a content little smile. That night had been one she’d never forget. She’d spent it with him and her friends, just out being normal twenty-something year olds. They’d danced the night away and then retreated to her apartment to give into their carnal desires on the couch, on the ground behind the couch, and then at some point, they’d maneuvered themselves to the bed where they’d had the last go of the night. It had been an exhausting, pleasure filled ordeal and even though only an hour had passed since they decided that sleep was a must, she could already feel how sore she would be when she woke up that morning. She’d have to stay in for the day, avoid being seen walking around as oddly as she was sure to be walking. That was alright. She could catch up on some shows from America that she’d been neglecting lately, maybe get ahead on some readings for the upcoming week . . . and with that thought, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

When morning came, she was awoken by the weight shifting on the bed. He was leaving. At least, she thought he was leaving. She could wake up, she thought, make things awkward. But she wasn’t going to do that. She wasn’t going to get up in arms about him leaving. That was too much drama and it was way to early in the morning for any of that, so she snuggled in closer to the pillow and willed herself to go back to sleep. That didn’t happen. Her mind was firm in its resolve to keep her up with different scenarios of what could happen is she just opened her eyes, but she was determined to not open them. So she just lay there, waiting for him to leave, but the thing was, Harry had no intention of leaving. His having sat up wasn’t due to the fact that he was going to sneak out, it was because he wasn’t sure if the previous night had been another dream brought about by his neglected loins or if had really happened.

He rubbed the back of his neck, tilting his head slightly downwards to massage it a better angle. That was when he realized he was naked. He was naked and he was in her apartment. Right, so something did happen, he thought to himself. Ever so slowly, he turned his body in her direction and there she was. Her right hand was tucked beneath the pillow, the left rested lazily beside her head, and she was on her stomach. In the softness of the morning light he could make out the marks on her hips and bum. His fingers had been immortalized on her hips. He clearly remembered having held onto her with all his strength, afraid that if he were to let go, she’d disappear forever. On her bum there was a hand mark, a mark left by a large hand which he knew to be his own. He stared at those marks with pride. They’d been his doing. The pleasured that had flown from her lips had been a song inspired by him. She was his now and, whether or not he wanted to admit it, he was hers.

Wanting to get back to sleep, he first wandered over to the living room where a curtain was partially opened, and made sure to give it a proper close. He then walked back, smiling whenever he came across a discarded piece of clothing. They’d been mad. They’d lost themselves in a fit of passion so fiery that he couldn’t believe some of the things they’d done, but he was glad they had done the things they had. And he hoped that when they woke up later on, they’d be able to have another go at themselves.

Upon reaching the bed, Harry held his hands up above his head, stretching slightly, and then picked up the blanket from the edge of the bed and crawled in beside her. He moved his pillow so it rested right against hers, and then covered both their naked bodies with the blanket that was perfect for summer weather. He placed his arm across her back, gently brushing his fingertips along her side, and Paulina, who was feigning sleep, took that as an opportunity to sleepily reposition herself. She rolled onto her side so that she faced him, and rested her face on his chest curling into him with a sleepy look to her so convincing, that he thought she was acting out of instinct and not because she was awake and knew exactly what he was going. His hand wrapped around her waist. He watched as she draped her arm across his chest, and then, he gently lifted that hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss upon it.

“You’re a wonder, you are . . .” he whispered, placing her hand back on his chest and then placing his above hers for safe keeping.

He wasn’t awake much the longer. His chin rested atop her head, his hands were firmly, yet gently placed with her, and in no time at all, he drifted off to the land of sleep. It was when his snores filled the room that she dared opened her eyes. She peered up at him, wearing a massive grin. This was not what she’d expected. It was what she fantasized about, but not at all what she’d thought would actually happen in real life. Yet there she was, being held in his arms in the early hours of the morning. There wouldn’t be any sneaking off, not from him. He wanted to be there when she woke up.

And when they both woke, hours later, there were matching grins on their faces. She gazed up at him, her dark brown eyes sparkling with such tender affection that he had absolutely no intention of masking his tender regard for her. Usually, he tried to keep himself from seeming to smitten. It wasn’t respectable for a man to display exactly how much he feels, it’s unattractive, but in that moment he didn’t care about any of that nonsense. In that instant he was nothing more than a besotted lover, his gaze conveying his earnest admiration and his regard which seemed to grow stronger with each day.

The first few minutes of their waking was spent smiling as they talked about the party, about how her friends had been so attentive and welcoming to him, and how there’d been a good variety in the music. Their conversation eventually drifted to their own wild night of passion, and at some point, Harry stated that he was serious about what he said last night. Her cheeks flooded with color. Blushing was ludicrous. They’d slept together! But still she blushed, and mumbled something along the lines of her having to go brush her teeth first. He didn’t think she was actually going to get out of bed to brush them, but sure enough, she moved the covers off her body and was sitting up when Harry reached out for her hand.

“What are you doing?” she asked, an amused expression sweeping across her face.

“Well I was gonna give your hand a yank and knock ya back down to the bed. Was meant to be spontaneous, it was.”

“Can you be spontaneous after I brush my teeth?”

“Ya don’t have to brush your teeth.”

“I do! My mouth tastes like this weird mix of vodka and tequila. It’s off putting.”

“That’s for me to decide, isn’t it?” he shot her a cheeky grin.

She shot him a playful glare. “I'm gonna go brush my teeth. It’ll take a few minutes.”

“But there’s no point in that. Not when I'm not brushing mine.”

“In that case, there’s only one thing to do.”

“What?” he looked up at her, expectantly.

“You have to get your ass out of bed and wash your teeth. Come on.” She tugged at his hand.

“But I'm so comfortable,” he protested.

“If you don’t brush your teeth, I'm not goin’ near you.”

“What was that?” he propped himself up on an elbow.

“You heard me.”

“Hmm, I'm afraid I didn’t quite catch what you said.”

“I said that if you don’t brush your damn teeth, I'm not gonna go anywhere near you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, it is.”

At that, Harry sat up, making her think that he was going to get out of bed so that they could brush their teeth and then lose themselves in a morning romp. He crawled across the bed to where she stood waiting, his hand still firmly held by hers, but instead of slipping out of bed like she expected him to. He wrapped his arms around her waist and then jerked backwards, sending them both tumbling onto the bed. He was quick in his movements, repositioning himself so that he hovered above, pinning her to the bed.

“What was that about not going near me?” he asked in a low voice.

“You’re a wanker. You know that?”

“A wanker?” he shook his head, seizing the opportunity to let his right hand slip between her thighs. “I'm afraid I don’t consider myself a wanker, not after last night.”

Her eyes darkened with lust when his thumb brushed against her warmth.

“What’s that? Haven’t a response?” he smirked, victoriously.

“Fuck you.”

“Ah, that’s what I like to hear.”

Harry smirked as he lowered his lips, encasing hers so hungrily that she felt herself become faint. Not that she let that stop her from kissing him back. Her lips instantly parted, allowing their tongues to meet after a prolonged estrangement. Her hands trailed down his back, the freckled flesh sustaining scratches from her chipped nails, and then, when she felt herself fully lost in him, he pulled away. She stared at him in confusion and irritation.

“You’re right,” he said, teasingly. “We should brush our teeth.”

“Fuck that,” she cursed.

She hooked her leg over his hip and pushed into him so that he was the one lying on the bed. He stared at her with lust filled eyes, his growing erection pressing into her lower back as she leant forwards and took his lips for her own. His hands went to her hips, holding her in place as she grinded into him.

It wasn’t long before they lost themselves in their morning romp, revisiting every bit of flesh that they’d explored hours earlier. And when they finally finished, they lay tangled in the sheets, their chests rising and falling erratically as they struggled to steady their breathing. She was addicting. The way she moved her hips had him hypnotized, and even after he’d had his fill, he was left wanting more.