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I thought about how it would be to be held by him…
By a man who had known nothing but darkness and mistreatment all his life. How desperate would he be? How tender? How much would he want it? How much would he need it? Like oxygen to his dust-stuffed lungs… His pale hands fire to my anticipating skin…
When he did, he was gentle, kind, patient... Like he was holding a small animal, something that he longed to cradle, not to crush. Holding back his neediness, he caressed my face. Savoring the sensation, the touch, the warmth… as he sent wiry splayed fingers searching across my facade. Soaking up all the heat and feeling from my flesh, like a flower with the sun. Hooking his two hands around both sides of my face, he pulled me closer to him. My lips parted in surprise, eyes darting around but always focused on some aspect of him.
His eyes, his mask, his lips, his nose, his hair, his hands…
…They traveled from my face to my neck, down the curves of my shoulders, along my arms, and down to my own hands. He then ran them sensually over my fingers, twisting and turning between them as he went, before then weaving between both of my arms to completely wrap me in him. His arms around my waist, forearms resting on my hip bones. Caressing the curve of my back with his fingers, guiding me forward and closer into him.
I stepped in, chest to chest. His breathing fast, his heart rate even faster, though he looked at me with a calm serenity. Not allowing his excitement to control him, to instead hold it firmly by the neck and to channel the feeling into his purposeful hand motions. Into the deliberacy of slowness, of savory.
I was pressed into him, the gentle floral scent of him combined with the warmth emanating from him intoxicating. He leaned his face in, and my neck craned up to meet it. His nose grazed mine as our faces slid in to fill each others. His skin was soft and warm. Lovely. I clung onto his cloak tightly, because I felt like if I were to let go I would fall completely in love with him… and I had to maintain some sense of decency… and sanity.
He made me want to feel indecent. To give into my instincts… To either maul him or make love to him with such passion that it scared even me. My lips graced his, delicate, tender, full of warmth and love. My hands found his face as our kiss deepend, and with one of my hands I pulled at his mask. Finding the edge, I gently peeled it away and let it fall. In his eyes then, was terror. But running my fingers along the canyons and valleys, I saw the terror subside and his eyes then shine with a beautiful glistening admiration.
Having now withdrawn from the kiss, he leaned into my touch. Under which he was reduced to nothing but a loyal lap dog. I wanted to smother him, pamper him, shower him with affection until he subsequently drowned. He pressed his fingers deeper into the crook of my back, burying his face in my hand. Hair a mess, eyebrows arched, eyes squeezed shut in concentration… I thought he looked quite beautiful like that.. when he cared about something, when he was passionate about something… And I think I found it quite best when that something was me.
My other hand lingered around his collar bones before finding purchase in one of the curves of his forearms. Drawing one of his arms out from around me I intertwined my fingers with his. His eyelids fluttered lightly as he reciprocated the motion, his touch demanding… Like he was softly begging for more, more, more of me.
Would I grant him his one desire?...
…Of course I would.