The light streaming through the cotton of my sheets is the colour of tangerines drenched in apricot syrup. Your arm and my pillow frame your face... 

Your eyes shine at me in my second-favourite type of smile. 
You're trapping the sheet behind your head, turning the bed into a cave made from barley sugar.

I lean against your chest and reach to kiss your mouth... Your other arm steals around me and pulls me closer to you, and I kiss you, and lip-nibble down to your neck, and nuzzle in the place where your neck ends and your shoulder begins.

You're laughing and gasping slightly already, teasing me for my habit of absently dropping a hand to cup your balls. You think it's all for show, but I'm usually surprised to find my hand filled with their warm softness. I squeeze gently and you stop laughing. Your eyes close and you look only happy.

My body is yearning toward you, even while we're pressed together like this, and my... what is your phrase?... my 'aggressive hips' are slowly pushing you across the bed. I slip an arm over your waist and pull you back, pressing closer, then moving away and letting you have space to breathe.

I'm feeling happy and laughing and glowing when I feel your hand settle lightly on my buttock I stop still and feel you slide it upward, over the curve of my hip, over my waist, and brushing the top of my back and the nape of my neck.

I shiver suddenly, and pull you over me for kisses... The sheet slips a little, and our cave is gone, exchanging barley sugar light for a normal cloudy day.

I don't care. Your hands are moving slowly over my body, and your mouth is reaching for my nipple. I feel... fluid... liquid... unreal as your fingertips brush my belly, and my hair and... 

My eyes snap open and "ohhh. Do that again."

You grin and do it again... and again... rocking your wrist gently against me and I'm purring and moving against you.

My eyelids feel fat and sleepy- looking as I part them to watch your face, a study in concentration. Your eyes are fixed on my throat, watching my pulse.

I reach down and fill my hands with you again. You're wet. You're dripping. That excites me as nothing else does. 
More than hands
More than your tongue even.

You're wet and I can smell your heat and I want you.

I kiss you onto your back, dislodging your wonderfully rocking hand and stroking you gently upwards. I'm moving over you, kneeling above you, and I bend over to feather kisses onto your throat and neck.

I wet my fingers and slip them along and between my labia, opening myself, smoothing the way for you.

I take you in my hand and start to slide you along my entrance... back and forth... teasing a little. 

Well, teasing a lot.

You look at me and I tilt my hips and I slide myself onto you. And stop still.

Your hands are at my hips and you make a sound of protest. I smile and squeeze, exerting what authority I can, while I'm still able to think. Squeezing and rocking, letting you slip slowly inside me.

Then you thrust up and pull down on my hips and I'm lost. I cling to you through the waves of feeling and I know I'm laughing and speaking, but I can't hear me, or stop, or direct it at all. Just ride the crests, and watch your eyes and listen for your breathing, or whimpers as I pass over the troughs.

Your face changes as you get closer... Did you know that? 
Knowing I'm the only person in the world who knows that way you look gives me a rush of tenderness while we're apart. 
But while I'm watching it happen it's exciting.

Then suddenly your throat tightens and you throw back your head against my pillows and I can feel you as you come into me.

I unlock my elbows and come down to snuggle you. Dozing and drifting, and feeling smug that you can bear my weight comfortably enough for me to relax here, with you inside me still.

Now the tangerine colours are only in the puddled sheets, half fallen to the floor...

I kiss your mouth clumsily, seeing my favourite type of smile at last,  and wait for my voice to return.

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