@michbekErotica

Between heated words and undying affection lies the line between black and white. Thick and gray, it pulls, pushes, tugs and shoves. Heavier than a smile and lighter than a frown, it is a burden all its own. It’s the line that separates distance from closeness.

It’s the place where we won’t be together, can’t be apart, don’t understand and haven’t a fucking clue what to say. Or do. It’s a land where pride wars with resolution, where “you” and “me” battles “us.” Chaos and order exist in equal measure. The ground is ice, the sky is fire and we must either go up in flames or freeze to death. There are few moments in which to decide.

I’ve stood on its fringe; watched the wariness in your eyes begin the slow flicker to trust. I’ve felt your body sway against its pull. I’ve caught the exact moment when you entered the gray; when, despite your pride’s intentions, you’ve tumbled in. I can only follow.

It is silent there, but only for a moment before the foundation starts to thaw. The first crack in the ice is half-scoff, half-chuckle. The sound is not enough to clear the coldness that lingers, but it’s warm enough to ward off the chill that surrounds us. A small smile, a tiny retraction, what’s between us now is a give and take that morphs from argument to banter.

Then you touch me.

I won’t lie. It only takes a single brush of your fingertips and victory is yours. Every ounce of fight becomes a turncoat. Surrender slides up my spine, over the curve of my neck, out of my lips. I need to feel you, taste you, smell you. I’m on my back in a heartbeat, your face filling my vision as your cock fills my cunt.

You aren’t gentle. I don’t want you to be.

It’s the only way to escape the gray. Every hard thrust, every harsh whisper, every mark we leave behind, they’re all necessary. They bind us, through sweat and tears, pain and pleasure, together. Nothing between us is ever simple. Complexity is what greases the wheels, keeps us moving smoothly through the days.

My hands brace the headboard, grasping for leverage against the force of your reconciliation. You demand, insist, won’t rest until I’ve given over completely. My spine arches, inviting you to take more, give more, fill me deeper, faster, harder. My growls aren’t a warning, but an offering.

I want everything you have to give. Incendiary kisses, desperate breaths, soulful moans; I take them all with greedy abandon. They are my reward, my prize for following you to this moment. Tomorrow we’ll start over. Exhaustion will overtake us and sleep will return “you” and “me” back to “us.”

For now, we’re both panting, desperate, reaching for release together. There won’t be any apologies. They aren’t needed. I feel it in the way you moan my name when you come, the sensation of you surging deep, spilling your seed, your soul inside. You feel it in every press of my body against yours, the “fuck, yes” issued from my mouth, the shuddering climax that follows.

Tomorrow we won’t remember that the gray exists. We won’t have any recollection of our falling out or our tumble in. We’ll only remember moving from shout to whisper, steady to shuddering, dark to light. In and out of the gray.

~fin

Fingers clutching the headboard, wrists bound, head down, you barely catch the needy “please” that escapes from my lips. Diaphanous material hugs the curve of my hips, outlines the shape of my ass, pulls across my stomach, my breasts, abrading nipples that strain against the fabric. All are parts of me I know you intend on exploring, but I am impatient.

Lust, desire, want, need; all tear through me at a dizzying pace.

My thighs, spread wide, offer lips that beg to be kissed. Your breath against my skin thrills me. A slow swipe of your tongue brings a broken inhale, the bowing of my spine, a shudder. Silent invitation.

I am speechless, aching, desperate to be filled.

“Don’t move,” you murmur against swollen flesh. I can feel the smile tugging your lips as you reach around to cup your palm over my clit, long fingers drifting down to explore.

My stomach muscles tighten against your arm; your low murmur of approval is the only sound that penetrates the quiet room. This time my “please” is louder, torn from a mouth ravenous for a taste of you. Your teeth sink into my skin and my unwitting flinch brings a deep chuckle. It echoes through me, insistent, riling the blood that pounds through my veins.

Your breath caresses everywhere, moving from spot to spot with seemingly unnatural rapidity. I know it’s just my world slowing on its axis.

I press my lips together, every muscle in my body taut, every nerve skittish. You’ve demanded quiescence; I intend to comply. Two fingers, then a third moving in rhythm with your tongue, and my plan fails. The need to move against you is unbearable; the shiver that races through me unstoppable and I shift to satisfy the urge.

Again your deep voice cuts through the room, this time absent its usual playfulness. “Don’t. Move.” The words are bit out, the command plain, the sharp slap that accompanies them a warning.

I force my body to still, lock my control into place, both of which provide a moment’s distraction from your movements. The timing couldn’t be less perfect. The diversion leaves me unprepared for the moment your cock presses into me.

A sharp gasp, the painful feel of my teeth against my bottom lip, none of these are enough to stop my spine from arching, my body from shifting into you. Silent defiance.

Your fingers tunnel into my hair, pulling hard, tugging me back into your thrusts. Relentless, your cock invades my cunt with a roughness that feels as much punishment as reward. I want more.

More of your hips against my ass, your hands holding me still; more of the uncontrolled sounds issuing from your throat. Deep, guttural, they spark through me, igniting the fire that rages inside. I am sweaty, shaky, breathless by the time I come.

I see nothing, hear nothing, feel only your need for dominance, my need for submission. I’m beyond caring about your motivation; I only want you to fuck me. Correction:  I only want you. Every frenzied breath, every tortured moan is proof of your possession.

Yours to taste, to touch, to feel; my world at a slant. ~fin

Part I:

Nearly empty train, barreling down tracks, driving heartbeats. You, situated directly across, aiming for aloof but failing miserably.

Three passengers remain, one lost in a book, one half asleep. The last stares out a window, pretending not to feel the tension in the air.

Delicate hands brush away a lock of hair, bringing an expected reaction. The man shifts in his seat, tries to ignore the unspoken play.

Your long fingers, perfectly manicured, remain at rest. Outwardly cool, you give nothing away.

My tongue darts out, wets my lips before teeth sink into the bottom one. Your composure falters, betrayed by a hungry look.

I know what you’re imagining, the thoughts running through your mind.

My moist lips, wrapped around the head of your cock, warm tongue flicking out before taking you into my mouth.

You straighten, a physical manifestation of the adrenalin shooting through you. It binds me, builds inside me, pushing me onward.

As my legs uncross, yours pull tighter together, grasping for a way to hide your response. Time to test your mettle.

My hand slides over my knee, index finger toying with the edge of my skirt; tugging, taunting as my gaze remains firmly fixed on yours.

The last man shifts once again, his stare focused on the reflection in the window, watching the interaction through heavy lids.

I straighten, stretching my back, my nipples erect, abraded by even the soft material of my silk shirt. Your nails dig into your palms, the way they would dig into my hips when you fucked me, pulling me to you as you thrust hard and deep, desperation setting the pace.

You wring your hands the way you would wrap them in my hair, tugging my head until my back arched, kicking my knees apart, spreading my lips and opening my cunt to take you to the hilt.

You suck in a breath; harsh, ragged, the way you do when you climax, when your hunger is satisfied and you can’t offer another thrust.

The train reaches the station and the passengers disembark, the last man with visible hesitation. He’s wondering what he’ll miss once he steps through the sliding doors. A slow grin creeps across my face, a promise to make a reality anything and everything he could imagine. With a sigh, he leaves and my eyes slide your way again.

Only you and I remain. Another leg of the journey complete, notch of anticipation achieved. Just one more reminder of how I own you.

Part II:

Barely through the door, my hands braced against the frame, nails punishing the wood as my body awaits the same.

Skirt tugged roughly up, baring me to your touch, cool air drifting over flesh heated and slick with want.

Your hand, sharp and stinging as it connects with my ass. My flinch is your reward; my pain your pleasure. And mine.

Long fingers slide down, winding around curves, searching for the perfect fit. Hips bear the brunt of their frustration, but tilt forward invitingly, hungry for more.

Your leg between my thighs, knee riding against my clit, my body answering not to thought, but craving, to the satisfaction that lay in the sinew that is you.

Sharp breaths, first stolen by kisses, then your hand as it covers my mouth, fingers dipping in, tasting of you, leaving me wanting more.

Then you’re gone, out of my line of sight, a split second’s panic soon replaced by another sharp slap. No time for pain, your tongue instantly soothes, feigning concern before your teeth sink in.

Desperation tears through me, its voice nothing more than breathless little gasps echoing my heartbeat as I struggle to remain standing. To remain sane.

I glance down, watch the top of your head as it dips forward, a firm swipe of your tongue that opens me. Then fingers spreading flesh, parting lips for a delectable kiss.

Delicious tongue flicks over my wet cunt, slowed movements that drag forth a weeping sob. Stilled by anticipation, every muscle locked, senses focused on the sounds of your fingers as they thrust, the smell of sex in the air. I breathe deeply, working to delay the pleasure coiling inside me. Fighting against the moment I know will follow.

You continue mercilessly; lips, palms, fingers, nails, teeth testing my limits, waiting for me to break.

Three little words, spoken softly, yet laden with command, bring forth a storm of sensations, incapacitating in their intensity. “Come for me.”

Shuddering, flesh tingling, every nerve in my body alive, hands grasping for purchase. I am yours, my senses flooded, mind wholly focused on this moment, where I exist no more. Where master becomes mastered.