Satisfaction

Listen, this piece is for grown-ups.

Proceed with caution. Duh.

Tangled sheets.

Shafts of sunlight and dust motes.

Eyes heavy with lack of sleep, blurred by contact lenses worn to bed.

She blinks and it all comes into focus.

A tangle of delicious brown curls lie strewn upon his pillow case, mingling with the shadow of unshaven cheeks. Last night's lipstick on his collarbone, his neck, his lips, smeared back again from his mouth to her earlobe, her chin. Their frenzy evident in a trail of mauve gloss. She traces it with her fingers, gentle on his skin, watches tiny ripples bloom under her nails. His skin is awake to her touch.

For a moment, he tries to pretend to be asleep. He gives up as her fingertips rove, cracking a blue eye to meet her gaze. A small smile plays and tired eyes glitter. His voice is ill-used, scratchy, gruff, "You weren't planning to let me sleep?" he teases, but his eyes blaze cold fire.

She bites on her lip to contain a grin, "Never."

He pushes her off, pushes her down into the comforter, letting her feel his intent along every last inch of herself. She arches in, aching already. But he is no meager lover. He pulls back and she stills, the anticipation of drowning in his touch freezes her in place. He begins his exploration, slowly at first, mirroring the fingertip trails she'd just traced on his skin, spiraling sensation in sultry curls to the tips of her toes. She can't help but voice her pleasure in a quiet exhale.

Then begin his kisses, blistering her skin where they touch. She wants to burn. She catches his lips with her teeth, stilling his explorations, burying her hands in his curls, keeping him captive with kisses, pushing him back onto his own pillow and climbing on top. He is prisoner to her whims. She presses in, trapping his wrists in her hands, utterly in control now. They still. And for a moment the Earth ceases to spin. They are lost in each other completely, so that now where there were two, only one heart remains. They must make it true.

She eases herself upon him. Joined, and the Earth turns again, faster and faster, spinning out of control until every touch is an endless tide of hot, sticky pleasure. They are lost in the motion and time ceases from meaning.

There is only his skin on hers, until a fissure begins at the core of their being- an eruption that tears them apart--together.

And the both of them exhale their satisfaction.