Slice of Life

Turning over to find warmth really must be the meaning of true comfort. Rose had really always felt this way. She was unfortunately unaccustomed to having any warmth, anywhere. Other than the discomfort of living in a tediously holiday-destination, textbook subtropical climate, that is.

But this afternoon she had David to turn to, to wrap herself up in comforting things. Four months of knowing he was there for her, and she still hadn't really gotten used to warmth.

But no matter; Rose turned to face David, even though he was paying attention to the television and probably wasn't aware that she was less tired than she'd appeared when they'd got in. She lay close to his back, filling her mind with his warmth and her playful, as-yet-unformed desire. She wanted to undress him to see his reaction, but in a fleeting brain-shock of resistance, she quietly stood up and went to the fridge. She heard him turn his head to see her not there, and then turn back to whatever they were playing at four in the afternoon. She wondered if anything worthwhile ever happened in the mid afternoon. Pulling her clothes off as quickly and quietly as she could, she spotted some sort of chocolate bar type Christmas themed sweet, probably lying about it's 'back by popular demand!' label, probably invented in November as yet another seasonal marketing ploy, but she grabbed it anyway. Chocolate never went astray. It was the second half of David's double-take, he turned again, to make sure he'd not missed her, then called her name. She responded by appearing in the doorway in her lingerie and holding chocolate.

She fully appreciated his chuckle at this, as she stood against the bed, collapsing onto it on her wide-apart knees. She reacted to his reaction more than she reacted to her thoughts; it was always so much more fun that way. He came as though to kiss her, but she instead fed him chocolate - something at which he smiled. Her hands were warm enough that even after He'd taken the sweet from her, she had a thick layer of it on her fingers. This she licked off, instantly wishing she'd instead spread it on his body. Messy, and more steps, but who wants foreplay to be efficient? She kissed in a snaking line from his left collarbone to his right hip, trailing chocolate intentionally. He gently pushed her to remove his trousers. She'd planned for this, planned to tease him, but certainly not refuse him.

"But Davey, I've got to clean your chest off first, see? You're all messy." She grinned as he looked down at himself and his expression changed from confusion to mock horror, the transition being a smile.

"Oh I see. Yes, you do that. However did I get so dirty?"

She traced little circles with her tongue on his soft skin. Nibbling with her lips but not her teeth. This time she went in an orderly way, right hip to left hip, upper left hip to belly button, belly button to ribs, (5,-4), (3,0).... Very neat, but the movements of her tongue still teasing the hell out of him. When she reached his neck, she kissed his chin, his cheek, his lips for a while. He fiddled with her bra and she laughed at him, wrapping her legs around his, pushing and sliding against him, altogether too slowly.

His patience struck her as admirable, though her past left traces of a girl who felt inadequate when unable to tease a man into giving into his desire. She disregarded her own worthlessness almost instantly, however, as -if she had David's love- she had value. She felt his mood change and she smiled at him with love that she knew showed mostly in her eyes. She half hoped he didn't notice.

"Oh, whatever do you want?" She teased, her voice a little sticky with trying not to brake composure,

"This." He sighed, gesturing at her body. She felt that he only said this because he knew that she wanted him too. He probably assumed more so, as he acted like admitting desire was admitting defeat, most of the time.

" You're welcome, then." She breathed, undoing his belt as he'd already requested. Rose was used to longing for her boyfriend. Months apart so early in the relationship ensured that she did not need to give in to her urge to just pull down his trousers enough to slide on top of him and that be the end of it.

She could kiss him first. Kiss him at least. Perhaps even take his clothes all the way off, she wondered? Yes. She wanted him completely undressed. She found his body more beautiful than he knew she did.

As she looked over him, (it felt luxurious - a blessing) she even managed enough composure to slip off her panties, rather than slide them to one side which was sure to stretch and stain them.

She half wanted to offer him a blowjob, but decided she could not stand to be empty so long. She wanted so much to just make him react. She wondered if he knew that. Crawling up his body, touching her thighs to his legs, then his sides, was such a lovely sensation. She lifted her body up, and leaned forward to kiss him, and to whisper;

"Was this what you were after, gorgeous?" Sliding onto him rather abruptly and being intentionally tighter to him than she normally would. It felt so much like belonging, like her place, -and of course a bit like nirvana- that she could barely mask her pleasure in the tone of her voice.

"I guess it'll do, for now." He may have wanted to take control. She didn't so much mind, but placed her hands on his waist, encouraging him to thrust back at her.

He wasn't used to her being on top, and seemed not to know what to do with his hands. She used all her weight to get him deeper, and picked up his hands to place them on that part of the lower back that could be called arse, could be called sides which is exactly right for shared control. She moved as much as she dared without breaking rhythm, at first trying to think about all the lovely things about today, but eventually she gave up. Or rather gave in. He made her feel fantastic. Not only when she came, but always.

His hands strayed from her body for a moment and she tried to make a clear picture from her overly lust-filled mind. But soon she relaxed, he was only undoing her bra and pulling it off as though unwrapping a gift. How could he do that while they move so much?

They both wanted it faster, something this position did not foster well, so she responded to his tiny gently questioning nudges by rolling over and holding her body up with one leg, the other she swung over his shoulder. He thrust exactly the right amount. She did not register him looking at her, she registered only how he felt to her. But after the initial shocked joy, she wondered how she could be so consumed with sentimental emotion when she was also completely consumed with physical emotion. Wanting to push towards him reminded her that he did not know she could straighten the leg above his shoulder. She did this (it being easy when she consumed herself with wanting, wanting, wanting) and placed his hand on the front of her thigh, so he was more in control of her body. He glanced at her in brief surprise upon finding her rather flexible, but this was only brief. She was too distracted to even notice his surprise. She marveled at how he could make her come so nicely. Somehow even her exhaustion did not deter her from living for the moment, reacting to thoughts she didn't register having.

She pushed him backwards, so that he sat with her left leg tight around his waist and her right leg high up his left arm. She went faster than she was expecting to, and she kissed him deeply. He bit her a little as he finished, and for some reason this made her happy.

"Was that anywhere near as nice for you as it was for me?" She asked, her bubble being slightly bruised by remembering that he doesn't like it as much as she does.

"Probably was. Since when can you do that? I thought you said it hurt?"

"I told you I was sorry about when we met. I was boring. Thankyou for this afternoon, love." Somehow his arms wrapped around her and her legs wrapped around him forced her body against his in the nicest of ways. Their heartbeats synchronically slowing, their slightly sweaty skin cooling in the chill air. It was probably time for a blanket.

"You started it" he grinned, clearly not complaining.

"That's what she said. I'd get under the covers, but I don't want t let go." Brushing off her own immature but necessary remark, and sticking her cheek to his warm shoulder. Hugging tightly.

"I love you, Rosie."

"I love you too."

Apparently David was satisfied with that. He grabbed some tissues and cleaned them both up, before pulling her under the blankets and cuddling her tightly into him. She reached for the remote and turned the sound up. But cartoons that she didn't like were on, so she flicked through channels. Past endless re-runs of Time Team, and other shows that everybody's seen, but nobody watches, until she found international news. She didn't really care what was going on in the world, but they were interviewing someone in French, and understanding most of what was going on made her quite pleased. She threw the remote to the floor on David's side of the bed, and wrapped herself around him, as he stroked her hair and she drifted in half sleep for maybe an hour.

When the news was over and some frustratingly cliché drama came on, Rose kissed David out of his par-sleeping state, and in so doing was roused from her own.

"Tea? Shall we have it at home, or go out? I'm hungry. Did we have breakfast, or did we drink through it?"

"I think we should go out." Really? This surprised her.

"Have you got somewhere in mind?"

"Uh-huh. I'm vewy secwetive." He said, being adorable.

"I noes. I dun noes if I lieks suhpwises, do. Will you need me to iron you a shirt?"He grinned at her shyly, and she beamed on the inside. His smiles brightening her world. "I'll take that as a yes?"

"Mm, yeah please."

She liked to be his woman. To her, ironing represented this somehow. Not that she liked ironing. No, ironing sucked. But not as much as he sucked at it. She didn't want him to put clothes on, but she was being selfish. She tried to dress him, but he must have felt like he was being babied, and he didn't let her. She just wanted the opportunity to touch him in a non-sexual way, but she settled for watching him closely. Body language is important. His introvert posture in his back, neck, shoulders, arms, proved too much about him. It hurt her a little, so she concentrated on his extrovert fingers, which were remnants from the early development of fine motor skills. Just like hers. She bent far forwards to kiss him.

"How do you lean so far with your legs crossed, woman?"

"Teehee, I'm driven by the need to kiss you, Davey."

He was not convinced, but he kept buttoning his shirt. Even though he wasn't aware of it, she took this as punishment for an unsatisfactory explanation. She laughed at herself. She pulled on a dress, a coat, stockings and casual black boots. Tied one side of her hair back, to neaten it up, and freshened her mascara.

"Leaving?" She enquired?

"Sure are, Beautiful." She grinned at what she felt was a polite lie about her appearance, grabbed her handbag, and they were gone.