437. - Lucien
Time is lost on us. It no longer matters; the only thing that matters is us being as close together as we can possibly manage. Moments needed to recover are often filled with wandering hands and lips, never longer than necessary. We go from simply getting all the want out to love making to pouring out all the passion that's been building up, only to circle back to love making. I don't have a single comprehensive thought, entirely taken up by the woman surrounding me. Forgotten are all the troubles plaguing us, the only thing that matters is us together.
But the time comes where my body is spent and I lay panting on my back, trying to get my heartbeat back to a reasonable count. I grab Emma's wrist just as her fingers brush over the v-lines of my hips. "I really, really can't, Em." I gasp, a breathless laugh escaping me. "You have entirely worn me down."
"Hmm..." She buries her face in the crook of my neck; a shiver rolls down my spine as she kisses one of the countless marks she's made. "I suppose I could use a bit of a breather myself."
I can't help but moan as her fingers, though my hand is still holding her wrist, start scratching at my skin. In the blink of an eye I've rolled her on her back and I hover over her, much like I did what must be a couple of hours ago. "Behave yourself, Miss Middleton." I threaten in a low voice. It only causes a taunting grin.
"Or..." I brush my nose along her jawline. Even after this all, her sweet perfume still lingers on her skin. "I'm going to whip that French voice again, because that seemed to work very well for you."
"That is truly a lousy threat." She laughs. My body signaling that I really can't hold this position must longer, I roll away from her again. I don't object when she comes laying against me, her head on my chest that is still quickly rising and falling. Our hands lay clasped together on my stomach. For a while we relish the silence, the moment of us laying together like this with nothing looming over our heads. It's just us.
I crane my neck to kiss the top of her head. Her dark hair is a complete mess, but I don't imagine mine looking much better. Neither of us says anything, because nothing feels quite right. Either of our names seem worn out, as does 'I love you'. The quiet speaks loud enough, even with nothing breaking it.
I stall everything out on the tiny dining table. Frank makes himself know, jumping up and meowing loudly. "Yeah, yeah." I mutter, pushing him back on the floor. "Ce n'est pas de la nourriture pour chat, mon pote." He jumps right back up, sticking his nose against the plastic lid. I roll my eyes, but relent; after some digging, I find a piece of beef in the container full of Chinese food and he snatches it away the second I dangle it in front of his little face.
"You shouldn't spoil him like that." Emma comments. She comes walking in wearing one of my shirts and just her panties. Her hair, partly brushed, is done up in a messy bun. I can't stop staring. Only when Emma gently nudges my chin do I realise that my mouth was hanging open. I recover.
"That is the first time I hear you complaining about spoiling."
"Maybe, but that's because you're usually spoiling me, and not my cat."
"Since I'm guessing Frank is going to be our roommate, I think you're just going to have get used to that." I peck her lips before sitting down for dinner. It's past ten, but we were far too occupied to even think about eating earlier. Frank continously demands attention. I guess you can't really blame him, since I've been quite possessive of Emma over the last few hours. After dinner we find ourselves on the couch, huddled together beneath a blanket that isn't nearly big enough, so my feet our sticking out.
"I can't wait for us to have a bigger couch with bigger blankets." I mutter, flipping through the channels and finally landing on some kind of music gameshow.
"Hey, there is nothing wrong with this couch." Emma defends. "It's served me very well."
"Did it? I mostly recall falling to the ground whenever I tried to make a move on you, but that might be selective memory."
She tosses a piece of prawn cracker, taken along from the dining table, at my face and smirks when it bounces off my face. "Don't tell me that those moments didn't lead to some of the best nights of your life."
"My mind is still quite occupied with this night, thank you." I chuckle. "I'd like my time riding out this high."
"Is the night over, then?"
I snort, glaring down at her with raised brows. "Listen, little miss feisty. I'm all for fucking your brains out-" I thoroughly enjoy the little yelp of shock that gets out of her. "but I'm not Hercules. I've been told the resemblance is uncanny, but I'm not. Not to mention that, going on your response, I've already delivered on fu-"
"Don't," She holds up a hand, laughing. "say it, you bloody show-off."
I raise both my hands in innocence. "Alright, alright, I won't. I mean, I'm right, but I won't say it. Your screaming was enough confirmation." The last word is muffled; Emma has come to straddle my lap, her hand covering my mouth, and I can only smirk.
"You know, it's funny. Here you are constantly threatening me when I pull stands like that, but you seem to be getting away with it every time."
"What are you going to do about it?" I ask, mouth still covered but she seems to be able to make it out. The grin that spreads on her face should scare me, yet it doesn't. Her hand drops, making place for her lips crashing down on mine with very little tenderness, and a second later the gameshow on the telly is completely forgotten.
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