Dis Moi...

Dis moi...

Things I want to hear from my lover: 1. "I want you. Now." 2. "I can't stop thinking about..." That sexy thing I did, or something about my body, or... 3. "I fantasize about you." Bonus points if they tell me the fantasy. 4. "Next time I see you, I'm going to pin you down and fuck you so hard." 5. "I want to hear you moan my name." 6. "I need you." 7. "Please." Bonus points if it's whispered. 8. "I crave you." (Variations on a theme.) 9. "You make me so fucking hard." 10. "I masturbate to thoughts of you." 11. "I love how you feel under my hands." 12. "Good girl." 13. "I'm going to shred that shirt off of your body." 14. "Come. Here." 15. "I'm gonna make you cum." 16. "I want to do this forever." 17. "Goddamn." 18. "I love this." 19. "I love you." 20. (While growling, or whispering.) "Mine."

Mine

You sleep, peacefully, unaware that I'm curling up behind you. I pull you against me, burying my face into the middle of your back, breathing you in. You smell so good

I run my hands over your skin, listening for how your breathing changes depending on where and how I touch you. Those soft sleepy moans you make are divine; I feel so powerful. I can make you so needy in your sleep

Finally my questing hands reach for my prize: your stiffening cock. I love that you're ready for me, and kiss your back softly. A few obscene sounds from the bottle of lube I have on hand, and I start to run a slick finger around your asshole.

Those shuddery breaths you make are heavenly, and I work my finger into you, loosening you. Fuck, it's so slutty, you working back against me in your sleep. Needing this. Wanting this.

Sensing you're ready, I line the strap up against you, before slowly working myself into you. Your soft whimpers are delicious, and I reach for your cock to stroke you while I fuck you.

i like how sleeping people have no filters. You don't even realize you're riding me as I fuck and stroke you. The most vulnerable version of you is such a whore for me.

I could go on like this forever, thrusting into you, my fingers dancing over your shaft, listening to the moans you can't hide from. But your climax is building. I can tell from how much harder your working against me, how your turgid length throbs in my hand. I won't prolong this delicious sleepy torture. You need release and I want to give it to you.

A combination of things tilts you into bliss as you cum; I can't pinpoint any one event as the culprit for your climax. Maybe it's the strap in your ass or my hand on your cock, or, hell, the soft, encouraging kisses I pepper over your back as I work. It doesn't matter. Your whimpers are such a delight as you spill your need over my knuckles.

After a moment, all is quiet. I survey the damage: open, lubed hole, messy stomach, cock, sheets. I slide off my harness and set it aside, debating whether to clean you up, but opt instead for you to wake to evidence of your use. One final touch, though. Using your cum, I fingerpaint one word over your pubic bone: Mine.

Harder

They only had a few hurried moments to taste one another's mouths before they had to get back to work. The closet was dark, and dust danced through the outline of the door, its edges highlighted by the room beyond. There was no time for conversation. Paul dragged Michael into his arms, realizing how suddenly he felt weak. His eyes scanned his lover's in the dim light. All he could see were twin stars glinting back at him. Michael hated these rushed, furtive moments. He preferred to luxuriate in Paul's caresses. But there was little time for that these days. He sensed Paul hesitate, so leaned up and captured his dark-haired beloved's rose petal lips with his own. Paul melted against Michael with a sigh. He didn't know how Michael knew when to touch him, but Paul was so grateful he took the lead. Even though he stood a good six inches taller and 3 inches more broad in the shoulder, Paul was so much more anxious. Michael just acted. It was he who took Paul's hand that night, confessed his feelings, come what may. Paul had known he loved Michael for so long but had never found his voice. The memory of that day, nearly a year ago, flooded Paul with such affection. He held Michael closer, kissing him with growing ardor. The fingers of one hand splayed against Michael's back while the others cupped the back of his head, tangling in Michael's fair curls, pulling gently. Michael was not going to complain about whatever was making Paul so amorous right now. He’d never kissed Michael so heatedly here at work. Normally Paul kept his affections temperate and chaste. This was...new. Exquisite. Pulling away from Paul's mouth, Michael sighed, "Harder, love." Blood flooded Paul's cheeks. He hadn't realised how far he’d gotten carried away. He didn't want to stop. "H-harder?" He stammered. Michael pressed up against him, the smaller man's arousal undeniable. "Please." Paul wound his fist slowly and carefully into Michael's hair, then gave an experimental tug. His beloved gasped and trembled against him. He ran his tongue around Michael's open lips, then sealed them with his own, kissing deeply, holding his lover. Every now and then he’d pull Michael's hair. He knew he was on the right track when Michael moaned, low and long, eyes half closed and sweeping languidly, eyelashes fluttering. "You are the most beautiful thing." Paul whispered as he pulled away to admire his panting, whimpering lover. Michael slid from his grasp with a feral growl, hitting his knees, scrabbling at Paul's waistband and belt. "Oh love!" Paul gasped, before Michael took what he desired, in turn.

calling my lover "mine" but not in the way that my toothbrush or notebook are mine, mine in the way my neighborhood is mine, and also everybody else's, "mine" like mine to tend to, mine to care for, mine to love. "mine" not like possession but devotion.

Greedy

By choice, I am on my knees before you, looking up at you through my eyelashes, cheeks flushed. You search my eyes, your own darting quizzically, hesitant. I reach up up and unbutton you at the waist, drawing your zipper down, it's rhythmic crunching filling my ears. Your fingertips graze the top of my head, filtering strands of my hair lightly. Eagerly, I draw your pants and underthings down to mid-thigh, exposing you. You have always been a delight to my eye, your dark tickling curls a springy nest for your cock. Hard or soft, I cannot get enough of looking at you, let alone experiencing you. I take a moment to admire, then glance up. You always blush at how wanton I am. The red flush stains you gently up to the tips of your ears. Leaning forward, I nuzzle affectionately against your member and listen to you gulp as blood floods your groin, your prick stiffening. I love this anticipation. My breath warms your skin, hot and damp, as my eyes flicker back up. You're floating away now, fingers falling uselessly to your sides, head tipping back with a sigh. I languidly envelop your turgid cock in my mouth, grinning wickedly around your girth, my tongue lapping at your length. For a moment I stay there and savour you, before sucking down your cock. You sigh again, breathy encouragement. I take my time, building you up slowly, a crescendo of obscene noises growing louder, faster, more urgent, as I continue my ministrations. I'm kissing and sucking and licking your prick with the fervent devotion of a worshipper, and there is no better term for me, still on my knees, laving your cock. You moan, one I know well, signaling your impending climax, and I'm delighted. My whole body aches for you, skin tight, breath shallow. Just a few more eager suckles, my hands digging into your hips. I purr in my throat and you gasp, thrusting your hands into my hair, holding me against your bucking hips as I swallow everything, your cock emptying at the back of my throat. We stay like that, you buried to the hilt in my mouth, me gently cleaning you off with my tongue, for many long heartbeats until you remember where you are, gingerly pulling away from me. I move in and lick you clean, pleased. I can sense impatience from you, but I take my time. You deserve the best. Satisfied, I glance up with a smile that is half shy and half sly as you pull me to my feet, hauling me against you. "Wicked thing." You lean down and whisper in my ear. I smile again, writhing suggestively. "I told you I was greedy." I swoon as you kiss me forcefully, my cheeks turning crimson.

Sonnet 3

Fevered flesh burns beneath taut fingertips

Each stroke and pull awakens more desire

Memories melt like honey on my lips

Each fresh remembrance setting me afire.

I'll replay ev’rything I've memorized

Your name synonymous with need and ache

Undeniably I am tantalized

From daydreams of you let me never wake

I'll build a bridge out of my arching spine

Fill up my sails with ev’ry gasping breath

Out of my quaking ribcage build a shrine

I'll sigh your name with every little death

I will soon collapse into your embrace

But until then will dream of your sweet face