"You ok?" He asked, always ridiculously in tune to how I was feeling. I put a smile on my face.
"Yes, I just didn't expect to see your bedding here. Made me sad for a minute." He looked a little confused and started rubbing his hands up and down the tops of my legs.
"Why sad?"
I shrugged.
"I guess it just caught me off guard. Seeing something from home mixed in with your new room – it just makes it really obvious that we're not at home anymore."
"Bit," he said sweetly as he tucked a piece of my long hair behind my ear, "It will be ok. We will go home and visit all the time. You'll see. In a few days you won't even notice that you're not at home." I smiled at him, not willing to tell him that it would take more than a couple of days to convince myself that my dad would be ok by himself. "Besides," he said as he leaned in closer to me. "There are advantages to being here." My eyes closed by their own will when his lips connected to my neck.
"Hmmm, and what would those advantages be?" I asked, my own voice sounded breathy and far away. He didn't answer with words but with his mouth trailed kisses up and down my neck. Like every other time he had his mouth on me, my heart beat wildly in my chest and my breathing came in rapid short pants. He pressed my shoulders back until I was laying on the bed and he pulled my shirt up so that it bunched up underneath the edge of my bra. I felt his big hands glide over my stomach and then his lips were on the sensitive skin around my belly button.
"Ash?" I groaned.
"Hmm?"
"Ash, Reeve could come up here any minute." I don't know why I even tried to stop him, especially when I knew I really didn't want him to. I wanted his hands on me, his mouth. I always felt the connection between us, even in the mundane. Sitting on the couch watching a movie, I felt it. Holding his hand as he drove us to dinner, I felt it. Fighting with him about stupid shit, yeah, I felt it then too. I always felt it. There were invisible cords that tied us together and I loved feeling the pulling and tugging on them as we navigated through life together. But when we physically connected, everything was in Technicolor. His breath on my skin was a thousand feathers. His hand running along my thigh was a thousand hot and knowing hands, overwhelming and welcomed. He was the first person I ever let touch me, the only one to ever touch me. I knew I'd do anything to make sure that stayed true for the rest of my life.
"Caleb is with her and she'll never be able to find this room anyway," he said between kisses on the soft tissue of my waist, his mouth skirted too close to the top of my shorts to allow my body to do anything but writhe underneath him. "Please," he whispered against me asking permission, his nose inhaling me as it swept across my skin. I reached down and took his face in my hands and pulled him up to my mouth. Once our lips crashed together everything intensified and was frantic. His hands were no longer enough; his lips not giving me the relief I was searching for; the weight of him on top of me not heavy enough to keep me from floating away.
I tugged on the hem of his tee shirt, pulling it up over his head, and allowing him to do the same to me. At the sight of me in my bra I heard a groan escape from him before he came back down to kiss me senseless once again. This is how it was between us. There was always a line, and once we crossed it, there was no going back. There was inevitably some floodgate and once opened, everything came crashing through. Then, most of the time, it was a competition. Who could kiss the deepest? Who could make the other moan the loudest? Who could last the longest before they gave in to the pleasure? It wasn't a bad game to play, but it had gotten us into some tricky situations in the past. And I was well aware that I usually lost these battles. Asher and I had spent the last year exploring our sexuality with each other, and there was nothing about my body he wasn't absolutely and acutely tuned in to.
His hands moved down to the button of my jean shorts and he expertly pulled them open and slipped them off of me, not even leaving my panties behind. He was obviously in a hurry and who was I to slow him down? He leaned back onto his knees with his trademark smirk on his face. He knew he'd won the first silent contest; he'd gotten me to give in. He slowly unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down to his knees, then fell forward again onto his hands so he was hovering above me and I used my feet to push them the rest of the way off. He began his slow trail of kisses again, down my belly, choosing one leg to follow all the way to the knee, then made his way back up. All the while I reached behind my back, unclasped my bra and threw it to the floor wanting to be rid of it. As soon as my breasts were free from the lace, they were covered again by his hands.
Looking down at him, all I could see were his brown locks of hair and strong shoulders. His mouth was still working on my stomach and thighs, and now his hands were kneading my breasts feeling heavier by the minute. This was all very lovely, but it wasn't nearly enough.
"Asher." That was all I needed to say. He knew what I was asking for. He also wasn't going to give it to me so easily. I saw him tilt his head up just enough so that I could see the smile in his eyes. I tried to maneuver myself to find something that would help me relieve the pressure. My knees spread wider and I could feel his hardness between us. My hips thrust upwards, searching for him, and I swear I heard him chuckle as he moved his body farther down mine, making the friction I was looking for impossible.
I won a small victory when I felt his breath on my core – hot gusts of air. He was contemplating, weighing his options, trying to decide if he'd rather taste me or continue his torture. I smiled because I knew what his decision would be and I was happy to wait the few seconds until he came to the same conclusion he always did. I felt his hands on the insides of my thighs, holding me open. A low and guttural moan escaped me as his tongue took its first glide along my opening. My back arched and my hips tilted as if to eliminate the space between us. The swirling of his tongue only intensified as he used his thumbs to spread me open further. There was nothing left between us, just him and me. And then I watched as his dam broke, his floodgate opened, he crossed his line.
He sucked at me with unmatched fervor. The rhythm he created, switching between teeth and tongue, licking and sucking, was enough to make my legs quake and eyes roll back in my head. All I could do was thread my fingers through his hair, tug on it to hold his mouth to my core, and try not to scream and shout loud enough for anyone else in the house to hear.
"Oh, God. Asher..." This was my mantra. I wasn't religious, but everything became holy when I was with him.
"You taste so fucking good," he murmured against me, then went back to his ministrations. It could have been seconds or hours or minutes, but eventually I came. I crashed. I fell.
I breathed heavily as he made his way back up to me with his eager smile because he knew what was waiting for him. I tried not to smile back at him, but it was impossible.
"Hi," I said softly as I swept my hand through his hair damp from sweat.
"Hey," he replied with an equally soft voice. His forehead came to my cheek and he rubbed along me until his face came to rest in the crook of my neck. I felt the tiniest kisses along my skin as I wrapped my ankles around his thighs, tilted my hips to just the right angle, and guided him into me. Once he was all the way in, once I could feel him stretching and filling me, he paused. I felt his breath, hilted and uneven, against my neck.
"Why does it feel this way?" He whispered against my skin. His voice sounded strange – strained and emotional.
"Feel what way?"
"So perfect," he answered. My arms came around his back and I tried to pull him closer to me, but I couldn't. We were already pressed together fully – nothing between us.
"It's perfect because it's right," I replied, running my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. My breath was stolen from me as he started to draw out and slowly pump back in. He started a torturously slow rhythm that my body both loved and hated. I met every thrust and was still needing more.
"Asher, please, faster or harder. I need something." He took my request and quickened his pace and strengthened his stride. He pushed me higher and higher. His strong thrusts coupled with his loving touches never ceased to create a frenzy within me. I was gripping his back, tilting my hips up as if to offer him every part of me, and he was always willing to take. His hands were never still, always searching for the touches that set me off, the caresses that made me tremble. Our bodies fit each other, sliding against one another, coated in a sheen of sweat. When his thrusting hips found the spot within me that made me cry out, he honed in on it and drove into me with fiercely sharp blows. He groaned as he drove into me and I couldn't hang on any longer. I felt my muscles clamp down on him, my legs quaking as my orgasm ripped through my body.