The Gleam in his Eye
by Sharon
He's got that gleam in his eye. The one that tells
me he's got more on his mind than what happened at
work today. As I focus all of my attention on him,
his lips part slightly and I see just the tip of
his tongue reach up to run along the upper edge of
his teeth. He closes his mouth, and a crooked
smile lights up his face. I know that look. I know
what this is: it's an invitation.
Not taking my eyes from him, I nod slowly. He
begins to advance on me, and I retreat until I
feel my back brush against the wall. My heart
beats faster as I realize there's nowhere else to
go. He has me. He's always had me. And if I have
anything to say about it, he always will.
He takes another step and my eyes are distracted
from his face by his braid, swinging seductively
between his legs. As it moves back and forth, I'm
reminded of how that braid almost has a life of
its own. My eyes close for just a moment as I
recall the times he's wrapped the hair around
parts of my body. Parts that have known the touch
of no one other than him. I can almost feel the
gentle caress of his hair over my chest, my
thighs, my...
He coughs loudly, and I blink my eyes open to see
that he's stopped walking toward me. He doesn't
want me lost in my thoughts. He wants me here,
now, totally with him as he's about to give me
something new to add to my collection of memories.
He follows my gaze as I look back at his braid. He
lifts it gently and takes off the tie that keeps
his hair bound. I watch as he drops the tie to the
floor. He knows I want desperately to pick it up,
to claim it as a lover's token. I've worn it on my
body before, modeling it for my private audience
of one, and I can feel myself tense from that
thought. As a mischievous grin lights up his face,
I know that he remembers too.
Grasping his braid in both hands, he slowly begins
to unravel it, his eyes never leaving my face. I
must look strange, being caught so spellbound by
his motions. His strong hands deftly untangle the
mass of his hair. His fingers are long and thin,
and so unlike mine. They move quickly and surely
in a well-practiced pattern. He's done this so
many times in his lifetime that he doesn't need to
concentrate on what he's doing. But he does. He's
making a show of it, because he knows what it does
for me. It sets my heart racing again, awaiting
that instant when all of his hair will be loose
and flowing around him. I may not care about my
own short hair, but I'm fascinated with his. It's
one of the many differences between us that I find
so alluring.
He's close enough for me to reach out and touch,
but I don't. I can feel my body begin to tremble,
and I'm anxious to see what he'll do next. He can
see the desire in my eyes, and smell the
anticipation on my skin. My breathing becomes more
rapid as he puts a hand on the wall next to my
face, trapping me there with his body. There's no
escape, but I wouldn't deny him even if I could.
We both know he could take what he wants, demand
my surrender, but he doesn't. It's not about
having power over each other. The hand that
reaches out to my face caresses me with a gentle
touch, and the warmth of it matches what's in his
heart. He lowers his eyes to my mouth, and I open
it with the intention of saying his name. Before I
can make any sound, he leans in slowly and brushes
his lips against mine. His touch is light at
first, but I know he won't be able to resist
increasing the pressure. He pulls away slightly,
and his tongue darts out to lick my lips. Top
first, then bottom. Slowly, back and forth,
tasting me.
He knows what effect that always has on me, and I
respond with a moan of satisfaction. I hear his
soft laugh and feel him lean in to claim my lips
once again. I offer no resistance. He tilts his
head to get a better angle, and I feel both of his
hands on the side of my face, pulling me toward
him. I give a little gasp at the change of
position, and he takes full advantage of it.
The force of his lips on mine increases as he
pushes deeply into my willing mouth. He moves his
tongue in a deliberate way, as if he's memorizing
the terrain. I feel delicate swipes over my teeth,
and a tickling of the sensitive roof of my mouth,
drawing out yet another quiet moan. I run my hands
up his arms and grasp his shoulders, encouraging
him to continue. As I reach for him with my own
tongue, I stroke and suck lightly, mimicking an
act I'm saving for later. He recognizes the
movement, and pulls away from the kiss to smirk at
me.
Blood rushes to my face, and I know I'm turning
red under his careful scrutiny, but I don't look
away. Instead I pull him back to me, slipping my
arms about his waist as I lean back against the
wall. He pushes my legs apart with one of his own,
and we both realize how much we want each other as
our lower bodies touch intimately. I don't know
how much more of this gentle teasing I can take.
I'm already using all of my self-control to allow
him to set the pace. Every part of my body feels
alive, and it's aching for him.
He must be feeling it too, this compulsion to be
united in body, as we already are in everything
else. Leaning in closely, he whispers next to my
ear. "Here against the wall, or in our bed?"
His breath tickles the side of my face as he
speaks and it makes me shiver. My lips part and I
take a deep breath as I imagine what he has in
mind. It's up to me to decide what will happen
next. He plays the part of the pursuer, but in
reality I'm the one who's in control. I will
decide if it's going to be a quick and feverish
ravishing, or a gentle worshiping of my body.
After a moment's hesitation, I point to the bed.
This time, comfort wins out over speed.
He pulls away from me, and I'm already missing the
warmth of his body. He offers me his hand, and I
reach out and grasp him, wrapping my fingers
around his, squeezing them firmly yet gently. My
simple gesture of love and trust earns me a
heartfelt smile, one that brightens his entire
face. The gleam in his eye is still there, but
it's different now, implying passion rather than
lust.
Guiding me to my side of the bed, he works
silently and efficiently to remove all of my
clothing. My body begins to tingle as he strips
away the last barriers between my sensitive skin
and his warm hands. I should feel vulnerable,
standing naked before him while he remains fully
dressed, but I don't. I look into his eyes, and I
see the love he has for me. I have nothing to
fear.
He pushes me down with a gentle touch on my
shoulders, telling me not to go anywhere. No power
on Earth could make me leave him tonight. I follow
him with my eyes as he walks to the dresser on his
side of the room. He bends over to open the lowest
drawer, and I feel my breath catch as I'm reminded
of what it's like when our positions are reversed.
I press my lips together and breathe deeply,
hoping he won't keep me waiting too long.
He straightens and turns to face me, holding a
bottle and a towel close to his chest. He places
them at the foot of the bed, and as he walks
toward me, he begins to leisurely take off his own
clothes. I watch enraptured as first his shirt,
then his pants, then his underwear are tossed
casually on the floor. He reaches back and lifts
his hair away from his neck, letting it cascade
about his shoulders and down his back. He tilts
his head backwards and gives it a small shake.
With a sly grin, he climbs onto the bed and starts
crawling to my side. He takes his time, both to be
certain that he doesn't trap his hair beneath his
knees, as well as to further inflame my desire for
him. I'm so close already, and he hasn't even
touched me -- yet.
When he does, it's tender at first, becoming more
insistent as our bodies fully awaken. A caress
here, a squeeze there. As we begin to rock back
and forth in an intimate embrace, I wonder if the
neighbors downstairs can hear us? There's no
mistaking the sound of our bedsprings moving with
the motion of our bodies. As he moves faster I
find that I no longer care. We're lost in the act
of pleasuring each other, and nothing else
matters. I hold out as long as I can, savoring the
feeling of him above me, until I hear him whisper
my name, telling me to let go. That's one order
not even I could willingly disobey.
All of the tension building inside me is released,
and my head jerks back against my pillow. I moan
his name, blaming and thanking him at the same
time for this incredible feeling. He chuckles
softly and continues his movements without once
breaking his rhythm. My legs tighten their grip
around him, as if I could pull him even further
into my body. His eyes close and he shudders
suddenly, finding his own completion. I feel his
movements speed up, as he attempts to wrest every
last ounce of pleasure possible out of our
joining.
Eventually, we break our embrace, and he falls to
the bed, spent. He's lying on his back, still
breathing hard, with his hair matted to his
forehead. His eyelids begin to flutter, and I know
he'll soon be asleep. He turns to glance at me,
and I can see that the desire in his eyes is still
there, but it's overshadowed by something else -- a
look of calm, quiet satisfaction. I reach for the
towel and clean him tenderly before getting out of
bed. Knowing how much he enjoys the softness and
warmth of the sheets, I pull the bedcovers over
him as I place a feather-light kiss on his head.
I go into the bathroom to clean the remnants of
our activities from my body, being careful not to
make too much noise. As I turn to leave the room,
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror,
created by a sliver of light seeping in through
the ripped window shade. I barely recognize the
face staring back at me. Gone is my normally
serious expression. It's been replaced by
something even more intense, something that he
alone can put there.
As I return to our bed, I look down at him, curled
up on his side with both hands clutching his
pillow. I watch the steady rise and fall of his
chest as he breathes. I'm content to just sit here
a while, listening to the small sounds he makes as
he sleeps in our otherwise quiet room. I'll let
him enjoy his rest, for now, because all too soon
it will be over. I feel a smile that can easily
rival one of his lighting up my own face, as I
recall how just moments ago I saw that gleam --
that look of need and desire -- once again. Only
this time, the gleam is in my eye.
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