As we take the last train into Luxembourg, I wonder what horrors await. Klaus, exhausted from the traveling no doubt, sleeps, his head resting upon my shoulder. I adjust my glasses - merely for show - and continue to type away on my laptop. Now, I realize, is a bad time to start over. Which will make me irritable for a few days more than likely.
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French. With Alex's accent. With his trill at the 'r's. It's orgasmic!
I wake up instantly, my head tilting upwards to look at him but I don't kiss him. I don't dare. "Keep talking," I all but beg. Hell, I would beg to hear more words in that language from him. It's a turn-on, it's magnificent, and it's all for me. I don't care what he says, I just want to hear him.
My arms go around him as I shift myself into his lap, moving his laptop safely away onto the seat next to us.
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"We're almost home."
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"That's nice." Just keep talking and I'll keep grinding against your lap like a dog in heat.
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"You have no control."
Then again, who could blame him. We have ten minutes before the train stops. I make sure we're ready to go in eight.
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