This.
Your hands skimming my skin, drawing little gasps and whimpers as you slowly learn the sensitive places in my body.
My mouth on yours, warm muscled tongues learning one another, lips skimming sensitized skin and your heat pressed against me, warming me against the chill of your bedroom.
Straddling you, that little groan of need dragged from your throat and the palm of my hand pressed to your breastbone, just above your galloping heart.
Your lips against the hollow behind my ear, usually a ticklish and unpleasant place, but not tonight when it makes me squirm, whimper, writhe beneath you.
My tongue on your chest, running over your nipples as my body tightens with pleasure at your shocked moans.
We've waited three years for this, dancing on the edge of desire, flirting, implying, offering, wishing, but finally this night I can feel your body against mine, show you the strength with which I've wanted you.
Finally, this night, I can take what you've always offered, return it and take it into myself even if only figuratively.
Hours later, lying in your arms with the warmth and strength of your body around me, I am content.
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