One Lazy Evening

The TV was on; some random show neither of us cared about, just background noise to fill the room while we cuddled. I was tucked against him, my back pressed to his chest, his warmth wrapping around me like a favourite blanket. His arm was draped over my waist, his hand idly tracing circles over my stomach,  something I could almost ignore—almost.

At first, it felt absent-minded, like he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing. But then his hand started drifting lower, his fingers brushing just under the hem of my shirt. 

I turned slightly to glance at him, expecting some cheeky grin or teasing comment, but he didn’t even look at me. His eyes stayed on the TV, his face calm, like it was nothing.

But it was.

His fingers slid beneath the waistband of my panties, slow, deliberate. My breath stuttered as his hand moved lower. My heart thudded in my chest, but he remained so maddeningly calm, like this was just something he did during reruns of random sitcoms.

When his fingers found me, my gasp broke the silence. He cupped me, his palm warm against my slick skin, and a soft sound escaped my lips before I could stop it. The wet sound was unmistakable, and I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. Still, he didn’t look at me; he was glued to the screen, though the corner of his mouth twitched in what looked suspiciously like amusement. Such a punk, I thought!

“Come here,” he commanded.

Before I could fully settle, his legs shifted, locking over mine. His thighs bracketed mine like an unyielding fortress. My back pressed into the warmth of his chest,  as though my body had been carved to belong there. My neck stretched, vulnerable yet defiant, resting against the hard plane of his shoulder. His slow and teasingly deliberate breath caressed the curve of my jaw. 

“Comfortable, are we?” His tone was wicked.

I bit my lip to stifle a smirk, though my eyes betrayed me. “You’re not exactly offering me an escape route.”

“Escape?” His fingers grazed the sensitive skin of my arm before trailing lower, deliberately slow, as if savouring every moment of contact. “You’re exactly where you want to be.”

My breath caught, but I refused to let him win so easily. “Cocky much?” I shot back, trying hard to hide the tension pooling in my belly.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear, faintly. I could feel the smirk on his mouth without even seeing it. 

“I'm a fan of your compliments, babe..,” His hands moved unhurriedly. It felt deliberate yet maddeningly restrained, his fingers pressing into me as if he were testing the strings of a harp. He stretched me wide, every subtle adjustment deliberate, leaving me utterly vulnerable. My breath faltered almost helplessly, my heart pounding at the realisation. His strength wrapped around me like a vice, holding me exactly where he wanted.

His lips grazed my ear, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Look at you. So pliant. My perfect little doll, aren’t you?”

I forced a smile, my voice shaky but defiant. “Perfect? I think... I’m more than that.”

His fingers didn’t slow, didn’t falter. “Mm, perfect.. little.. doll,” he repeated, his tone teasing as he pressed closer, his hand moving lower.

My body responded before my mind could even catch up, leaving me gasping for air, my hips involuntarily bucking up to meet his hand as he circled my clit. “You’re soaked, baby,” he murmured, his voice dripping with awe and just a hint of smugness. “Can’t even keep still, can you?”

“I—” I began to say, but no words came out. Only a breathless gasp escaped my lips as his fingers curled inside me, pushing deeper. My breath hitched, and my head fell back against his shoulder.

 I can’t breathe—his touch, it’s too much.

 My thighs tightened, but he held me wide open. 

Why does he make me feel so exposed, so wanted? 

His chuckle vibrated against my skin. 

God, he knows exactly what he's doing to me. 

His fingers moved like they owned me, unlocking a new kind of pleasure with every touch. A shiver rippled through me. The touch was as skilful and tormenting, igniting little sparks that spread heat beneath my skin.

 I’m losing myself... I don’t want him to stop.

“I can feel you holding back,” he teased, his lips grazing the curve of my ear before biting down gently. “Why are you hiding from me?” 

Hiding? I wasn’t hiding; I was losing myself to him, to this...

My thighs tensed against his, but his legs tightened, holding me wide open. “That’s better,” he whispered, his teeth grazing my collarbone. “No running from me now.” 

I wasn’t. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.

When he slid two fingers inside me,  I whimpered, turning my face into his neck as if that could anchor me.

“Why do you control your sounds?” he murmured, his voice laced with mock curiosity. “Are you shy? Or do you think you can keep quiet for long?”

I let out a broken moan, my body clenching around him, pulling him deeper. He groaned softly, his breath hitching against my neck. I couldn’t hold back as he shifted his angle, his fingers brushing that perfect, devastating spot inside me. I wanted to reply to match his smugness, but my words felt trapped in my throat.

Fuck! 

His chest rumbled against my back in a soft, satisfied laugh.

“You’re dripping, babe,” he murmured, his thumb teasing my clit again, coaxing me higher.

My instinct was to squirm, but his legs clamped around me, spreading me wide, and leaving me helpless in his grasp. His fingers quickened, curling and stroking, as his thumb flicked my clit. My hips jerked, but his legs tightened each time, keeping me stretched and still, entirely at his mercy.

His lips moved lower, his teeth lightly scraping my neck, sparking a rush of heat through my veins. He nipped at my collarbone, hard enough to leave a mark, before soothing the sting with the heat of his mouth. 

“Do you like it here?” His voice was rough, almost mocking, as he brushed his lips against my nape. “Or here?” His teeth sank into the delicate skin behind my ear, and I couldn’t hold back the shudder that followed. His fingers were relentless, teasing without mercy. They played with my wetness, daring me to give in. 

I couldn’t hear him any more.

The knot in my stomach coiled tighter, my body betraying me again, arching back into him, wordlessly pleading. My thighs quivered, my breath came in sharp gasps, and I felt the relentless pressure building. A keening sound escaped me, half a moan, half a plea, my nails digging into his thighs. My hips involuntarily bucked against his grip.

“You’re close,” his breath brushed against my ear. “I can feel it—you're about to fall apart for me… Aren’t you?” 

I couldn't make sense of anything. The release surged through me, raw and unrelenting, like fire licking through my veins, consuming everything in its path. My body jerked violently, sweat slicking my skin as heat pooled deep inside me, radiating out until I was trembling, shivering, completely unmoored.

“Look at you," he intoned. His words had an undeniable authority. “You’re drenched—so perfect, so mine.”

I could barely process his words, my world spinning, vision blurred as the overwhelming pleasure left me gasping, utterly wrecked. My skin burned hot, yet goosebumps prickled along every inch of me. When another surge hit, harder, fiercer, the slickness spilling over his hand, a mortified gasp escaped me. But he only groaned, lips brushing my neck; his approval was a wicked balm to the heat in my cheeks.

“That’s my girl,” he growled possessively. A praise? A command? 

His thumb found my clit again, his touch sending me higher into a haze where I couldn’t tell where my body ended and he began. My breath hitched, my hands clutching at his thighs as if they were the only solid thing left in this spinning, electric chaos.

I was utterly undone, my body trembling in his grasp as the last tremors rippled through me, but he wasn’t finished. His fingers seemed to coax sparks from nerve endings that should’ve been spent, yet somehow weren’t. My breath came in shallow gasps, the slick heat of my skin pressed against him, and I could feel every shift of his muscles as he held me steady.

I whimpered softly, the sound escaping before I could stop it, my hands gripping him tighter as his fingers found a slower rhythm that was deceptively gentle, lulling me into a brief reprieve. But I knew better. Or so I thought.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, “I want it all… everything you have to give.”

His thumb circled my clit, and the sensitivity was almost too much, wobbling on the edge of pain and pleasure. My head fell back against his shoulder, my body arching as his other hand gripped my hip, grounding me, holding me exactly where he wanted me.

“You feel that?” he whispered, his lips trailing down my neck, leaving a searing path in their wake. “That’s mine. All of it.”

My pulse roared in my ears, the room spinning, every sense narrowed down to the relentless pull of his touch and the deep, commanding weight of his voice. The pressure inside me built faster this time, sharper until it crested in an explosion of heat that shattered through me, leaving me sobbing his name, my body collapsing against him, spent and utterly his. 

He finally stilled, his hand sliding to my waist as he pulled me closer, the warmth of his body grounding mine. His lips brushed softly against my temple, a tender kiss that lingered. He wrapped me in his arms, pulling me close to shield me from the aftermath of my unravelling.

His lips brushed softly against my temple. He pulled me close, enfolding me in his arms as if to shield me from the delicate vulnerability of the moment and remind me I was safe. His hands, firm yet gentle, moved in slow, soothing circles along my back, grounding me as my breath slowed and my heartbeat slowly steadied.

I nestled into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath me. The warmth of his skin grounded me, reminding me of the space we shared—one that was calm, anchored in a peace that felt both fragile and infinite. I buried my face against the curve of his neck, letting the softness of the moment wash over me.

He pulled me back slightly, his hands cradling my face as he tilted it gently upward, searching my eyes with a softness that took me by surprise. He leaned in to kiss me softly. It wasn’t hurried or didn't feel possessive... It felt like he wanted to savour every second of me, every second of us.

It took a moment before I could find my voice, my head still spinning, but when I finally did, I let a cheeky smile play on my lips. I tilted my head slightly and looked into his eyes.

"Do you have any idea," I  feebly whispered, my fingers tracing lazy patterns over his chest, "... how impossible it will be for me... to look at your hands... And, um..  not blush?"

 I could feel his laugh against my skin, and he tightened his hold on me. "Oh, I think you’ll manage," he said, with effortless confidence.

Then, he kissed me again as if time had stopped just for us, reminding me in that quiet, perfect moment exactly why I’d never stop thinking about those hands.