The subtle parting of your lips as my fingers press down on your throat makes me shiver more than the prick of your nails along my arm. The flashing lights of the passing cars outside cast a shifting glow over us as we lay there, near motionless, your eyes heavy-lidded and locked onto mine.
Poised there, off and on, for hours, lingering touches in the places we trusted each other to know, teasing to the breaking point, neither of us willing to crack first. It's driving me mad, not taking my teeth to your skin, leaving you a run of bruises from neck to nipple to hip to-
-holding you down like this, meeting your gaze, the tangle of your fingers in my hair my confirmation of your approval, my imagination is flashing like a strobe in a gallery, and I see snippets of sex and sensation that stir my lusting mind to the brink of action; the buck of your hips at my first penetration, the sounds of your sweet voice and sweaty skin in the warm night. The taste of your kiss. The taste of your cunt. And the sharing of one through the other.
Your leg shifts, leaving my hand couched upon your inner thigh; on a whim I press against you and your legs open to my intent, and so I bunch the last of your skirt around your hips and when you coil your calf around my waist I know we've crossed that line and I dart forward and press my mouth to yours and our breath mingles between kisses as our heartbeats speed up and my hands tug a small wisp of fabric away and then-
-the subtle parting of your lips as my finger probes between them makes your whole body quiver as anticipation turns to satisfaction and your nails dig deeper into my arm.