"world of good" (2/2)planesandcranesApril 15 2014, 04:50:11 UTC
“i don’t know how to--”
“it’s okay,” she says, rubbing circles on his thigh, her hand slowly making its way toward the part of him that wants her most, that aches the most. “you don’t have to know anything. loving me is enough.” she sits up again so she can look at him. her eyes are shimmery, and a little nervous. he’s not used to her being nervous. “i never thought i’d find anyone who loved me, let alone” -- she gestures at all of him -- “this. whatever you do, it’ll be perfect. you’re perfect, remember, wonderboy?”
he rolls his eyes, but he can’t help smiling. “that’s what you keep telling me.” he looks around the room, at the statues and paintings of himself. strong, shining, heroic. “but...i want to stay your hero, you know? i want to be good for you.”
she leans into his chest, taking his hand in hers. “you’ve already done me a world of good. you’re allowed to be bad every once in a while.”
his hips buck upwards again, and he’s starting to sweat. he doesn’t think he can take this aching anymore, and the way her eyes are sparkling lets him know she is more than willing to relieve him. gently, she lays her hands on his chest and pushes him down on the chaise. she rests on top of him for a while, giving him the softest, sweetest kisses on his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, and fleetingly, intoxicatingly, his lips. he doesn’t know how much more he can take of this, but she’s holding his face like it’s precious, like he’s worth more than all these golden trophies and marble statues, like he’s her hero.
after an eternity of soft sweet kisses and smooth skin and hot breath and lingering, aching touches, she pulls her skirt up and says, “i’m ready when you are.”
he nods, his head heavy and dizzy and happy, and all he can say is “i love you, meg. i love you. i love you.”
“it’s okay,” she says, rubbing circles on his thigh, her hand slowly making its way toward the part of him that wants her most, that aches the most. “you don’t have to know anything. loving me is enough.” she sits up again so she can look at him. her eyes are shimmery, and a little nervous. he’s not used to her being nervous. “i never thought i’d find anyone who loved me, let alone” -- she gestures at all of him -- “this. whatever you do, it’ll be perfect. you’re perfect, remember, wonderboy?”
he rolls his eyes, but he can’t help smiling. “that’s what you keep telling me.” he looks around the room, at the statues and paintings of himself. strong, shining, heroic. “but...i want to stay your hero, you know? i want to be good for you.”
she leans into his chest, taking his hand in hers. “you’ve already done me a world of good. you’re allowed to be bad every once in a while.”
his hips buck upwards again, and he’s starting to sweat. he doesn’t think he can take this aching anymore, and the way her eyes are sparkling lets him know she is more than willing to relieve him. gently, she lays her hands on his chest and pushes him down on the chaise. she rests on top of him for a while, giving him the softest, sweetest kisses on his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, and fleetingly, intoxicatingly, his lips. he doesn’t know how much more he can take of this, but she’s holding his face like it’s precious, like he’s worth more than all these golden trophies and marble statues, like he’s her hero.
after an eternity of soft sweet kisses and smooth skin and hot breath and lingering, aching touches, she pulls her skirt up and says, “i’m ready when you are.”
he nods, his head heavy and dizzy and happy, and all he can say is “i love you, meg. i love you. i love you.”
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