Have you ever really been intimate with someone?

No, I said. I’ve whispered around the edges of it, skated over the skin of it, traced its outline. But no, not until you.

What’s different about me?

I looked at him, his brown eyes, brown hair, the faint dimples in his cheeks and the strong line of his jaw. I felt the air slide over my skin, kiss my nipples to erection, and watched his pupils dilate as he looked at me, waiting. I don’t know.

His finger sketched a line from my armpit, down the full side of one breast. This is intimate, he said.

No.

No? His finger tip brushed over a nipple, and it reached further for him. My breath caught.

No.

His hand travelled downward, over my belly, lower, and he paused with the pads barely caressing my freshly shaved mound. His eyes challenged me, his breath coming quicker. I watched his body, his tongue wet his lower lip, goose flesh race over his ribs and hip, his nipples harden into tiny points, his cock lengthen on the linen.

I shook my head. Stop, I said softly, my hand on his wrist.

How is this not intimate?

My voice quavered slightly. It is. I’m not sure it’s intimacy.

I love you very much, he whispered.

That’s closer. I gently moved his hand aside, and my eyes held his while I slid my own fingers where his had wanted to go. I shifted, opened my thighs slightly, I exposed that part of me I never showed anyone, and I touched, I let my eyes drift shut, and I forgot about him. Almost. That I knew he was watching, that I could hear his breath thicken and catch, these things pushed me higher.

It ripped through me like a tidal wave, destructive and liberating, and sooner than I expected. It was when his voice, low, husky, said close to my ear, You gonna come for me? that I let it go, all the fear, opened the cage and let the fucking beast roar out and reveal itself. So many years of wanting and being denied. And it kept coming.

His arms were around me, and his mouth covered mine. I wondered if he could taste it, the release on my tongue, the blood in my throat. I trust you, I said. That’s how you’re different.

I felt him smile against me, felt his erection throb against my thigh. I felt the closeness and eternity, the beginning, middle and end of everything in a single moment. And in a thousand moments to follow.

15 thoughts on “Intimacy

  1. This was really brilliant writing, Felicity. You managed to capture innocence, fear, lust and that deep need for trust …that moment… for the ones who finally let go who for whatever reason have never been able to…it was beautiful, sensuous, and palpable. Loved this.. -alex

    Liked by 1 person

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