It’s the middle of the night, full dark, really, and he awakes from deep slumber to the cacophony of a tremendous storm. Liquid noise dancing across the window and touching every surface it could, metallic and organic it filled the room and bore witness to an almost imperceptible smile on his mouth.Entwined in a pillow, arms wrapped tightly around, his hand draped carelessly on his cheek and his leg falling gently across, he thinks so much of her. And knew that if they had awoken to that sound together, they would kiss, make love in that darkest of hours, in that sensual noise.
Soft smiles, more felt than seen in the dim light would pass between them, her body pressing gently back into his, feeling, finding…a soft giggle escaping, but no words. Not one word would pass between them. Only those small sounds as hands find their way, and desire shifts to physical form in the storming night.Her hands meet his face as she turns in strong arms, fingers caressing soft lips, the palm of her hand discovering that rough shadow upon his cheek as lips cover lips. There’s no need to see to know where to embrace, there never is. Darkness makes no difference. Warm sounds pass between them, lost in the kiss as her body covers his, supported, but only barely, on her arms, her hands on his face, as the gentle weight of her body presses into his.
With the softest shift of hips he quietly enters, silky and smooth, biting his lip, not wanting to make a sound, only wanting to hear hers. The entry is slow, deliberate, testing. She is not a patient woman, and as he savors every silken fold, she thrusts him deeply. He doesn’t have to wait long to hear her: that soft gasp falls from softer lips with her exhale and all he can do is smile and begin to move with the rhythm her body naturally creates. So warm…so very warm.Rain has no rhythm, no pulse, but they do. It pounds on in an ever-increasing throng anyway, and so do they. She holds her mouth just above his as they breathe the same air, his breath steady and deep, hers quickly growing ragged as the first wave crashes through her…her face turning, teeth sinking into that inviting shoulder…there only for her teeth to bite.
He nearly shrieks as that delicious pain floods him, but he will not break that flow. His hands, always on her slide upward through her hair and hold her against his body, prolonging the contact between teeth and flesh as small hips regain their composure and grind into his. He finds her neck, so inviting, damp and glistening in the tiny light and kisses it as her knees slip upward. Always one step ahead of him, always bringing him deeper into her, their mouths part from that soft embrace as she sits up, but his hands find her, them, one wet form joined, and his fingers begin to play in that dampness as their bodies find that rhythm again, only deeper, more poignant.
He raises his knees, controlling the depth, and allowing her to lie back against them. Still no words shatter the darkness. Only sighs and soft moans, warm, wet, as much a part of the night as the rain fill the space. This is playtime. Neither of them can move much like this, but fingers can caress, small shifts can be made, chests can be clawed, marks left. This is a time to simply be inside her, to fill her and to be filled with quiet happiness.Playtime is over. His knees drop as she swings her body forward, their mouths meeting as her back arches and they thrust together. There would be gasps, but no sound can come from mouths so deeply connected. She rests on shaking arms, as one of his hands plays in her hair, the other glides down damp soft skin, arched spine, finding her tattoo and holding fast there.
Rhythm falls victim to the rhythm-less rain and sounds escape the kiss after all. They move together, her head resting on his, eyes locked in the dark, even if they can’t always see each other and the most sensual of screams fills the room as he fills her, her whole body tightening, responding as another waive crashes into her, through her, through them. They ride it out, nibbling on each other wherever they can reach, hands pulling each other closer, as if it were possible to be any closer than this. They would be if they could be. The room is wet, like them, and blessed air conditioning kicks on just as his scream turn to that soft joyous laughter that she can never quite get used to but always longs to hear. It slips over them, cool and crisp, and he pulls a sheet over still interlocked bodies, never leaving her. Her knees straighten, and allowing the soft weight of her body to rest on his. Kisses, touches, soft bites now, and simply being together fill the time as relief and release temporarily sate desire.
Still no words. Enough was said without them. In time her body slips from his but not away. He listens to her, to her body, her heart pounding under beautiful, delicate curves but quieting to its normal song, her breath growing soft, finding that gentle rhythm near sleep. He nuzzles into her neck and can hear her smile one last time as she drifts off, dreaming of rain and beaches and whatever beautiful and crazy things people like her dream of.
He would smile at that thought, and drift off as well.