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In fact, these touches have never been truer. Perverse, full of vulgarity and intense desire, a crazy game in which there is no winner.
- You're crazy, you know, - Joy wheezes, but Anger catches the words on his tongue with his lips and silences Joy. He's persistent, but not so persistent that Joy thinks it's insolent; he's persistent just enough for Joy to realise that she's loved, desired and amazing. And the emotion seems to understand that message.
His broad palms gently touch her tangled hair, he pulls away, but soon he places his lips on the golden neck and bites down. Listening, absorbing Joy's touch, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulls him down with force, and won't let him look away.
Mad, intoxicating, he feels no thoughts in his head - there is only Joy now, with her tight palms, quiet moans, long kisses and supple body.
He wants to soothe her, but at the same time he wants to ignite all the feelings and sensations in her, so he presses closer, strokes her gently, kisses her fiercely and gives all of himself.
He had yet to learn the curves of her back by heart, all her weaknesses, but now that they were doing it for the first time, he really wanted to make Joy happy. That's why all his stroking is unnaturally soft, he's embarrassed and knows that Joy feels the same way.
She catches his face with her palms, presses closer, kisses his cheeks burning with embarrassment, and seeks his gaze again and again. It's as if she's afraid he'll leave, but when Joy looks so gorgeous and graceful, is it possible to look away for a second? No, of course, it's all just convention and unconscious excitement.
He tries to be gentle, she tries to remove his shirt and trousers unobtrusively and quickly.
Naked bodies glow in the darkness. Mad excitement burns in their eyes, pressing skin to skin, absorbing each other's moans, feeling how hard they shake, Joy and Anger pull away from each other one last time.
- Are you sure? - he asks more out of politeness, to which Joy only chuckles softly.
- Come on, - she wraps her arms around his neck, making Anger speechless for a second. It's amazing how their bodies accept each other perfectly, mimicry so that neither she nor he is hurt.
Joy tries to hold on, but these new sensations are driving her crazy, she wants more.
Her mouth is full of moans of pleasure, delight and love. Anger's pace is fast, but it's for the best, it's a rhythm that Joy can easily adjust to. Leaning over, she kisses Anger, palm touching her cheeks and pulling in the moment, biting her lip, licking the wound and smiling.
His palms hold her hips, gently and carefully, Joy can be sure he will be gentle. In moderation, of course, or it wouldn't be Anger at all, he bites down on Joy's breast, making her almost cry out, but quickly licks the wound, soothing the pain.
When he reaches his limit he reaches out one last time for a kiss and Joy, as if realising his intention, kisses him first, colliding with his tongue. The final touch in the painting and the frantic thrusting stops.
They don't pull away from each other for a long time, looking at each other's faces in silence. Tomorrow will be a new day, but that is later, but now is happening now, and they are pulling this moment for just the two of them.