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Essoufflé

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His eyes.

It all starts with those fucking eyes.

Golden, caramel, amber and russet, and you get lost in them every time.

He's looking at you, through those lashes, his lips are parted, and you're watching him watch you and god your heart is absolutely racing right now. He bites his lip and you can't help it, a sigh escapes your lips, and your leg moves, and you feel him tense above you. His grip on your waist tightens, and you move closer to him, if that's possible. He nudges his nose against your jaw, telling you to move your head, and you do, and then he's kissing your neck. Light, feathery, butterfly kisses, but it still sends electricity through you. Then he finds your sweet spot, and your eyes flutter shut. He licks and bites at it, and holy shit he knows exactly what drives you crazy. Your hands are at his waist and you dig your nails in, you can't help it, but he takes in a hitched breath and it's like you're flying. His hand dips, and suddenly you feel a warmth at your side, on your abdomen, just below your breasts, on your breasts. You can barely breathe, and it seems like all the blood in your body rushes to your head, your neck, your shoulders.

His thumb traces down your middle, and you shiver. His head moves and he bites at your collarbone. You sigh, and it encourages him; he finally tugs at your t-shirt, getting impatient. You almost whimper, but you catch yourself, instead moving your hands down and slowly pulling it up and off, making a bit of a show out of it. You get the reaction you wanted, and he swallows, and his eyes trace your body slowly, up and down and up again. Then he looks back up at you, a faint tint of red on his cheeks and oh, god, he looks so good like this. You feel yourself smirk, and something changes in him, you can see it. He leans back, pulling his own shirt up and away from the bottom. You can see the way the muscles in his arms ripple, his stomach and back arching as he tosses it to the side, his lean frame perfectly complimenting yours when he finally comes back down. Your hands come up and you grip onto his upper arms, and you can feel them straining. His lips part again, and he licks them, swallows, and you can see his perfect fucking Adam's apple bop up and down with it. His hair falls in his face, but you don't fix it. It's perfect the way it is.

You can practically hear your heartbeat as he kisses you again, and he tastes so sweet. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, and you know he's asking your permission even though he doesn't have to. Your lips part, and you let him in, and you let him completely consume you. You arch into him, and your hands move back to his sides, and you relish the feeling of his skin against yours. He bites on your lip, harder this time, and pulls it out, and you can hear his soft groan when your leg moves against him again. You can't help a small squeak escaping your throat, and you swear it lights him up. He barely grinds his hips into yours, but it makes you dizzy. "Fuck," you whisper, and he strains to hear you. "Watch your language," he replies with a smirk, and it's such a quiet whisper but you can hear so much behind it. The lustful rasp, the barely-hidden breathlessness, the ache in his head and his heart to be wholly yours.

You let out a soft laugh despite yourself. "Make me." It's such a simple sentence, so immature, but with him it's different. With him, it's a dare .

He takes the bait.

He turns his head, so slightly, and in his neck you can see that fucking muscle perfectly, and the light sheen of sweat already on his skin, and you have to fight yourself to not moan out right then and there. "Good that," is his reply, and you swear his voice dropped an octave. A thrill runs through you, and you close your eyes. You feel a hand trailing down your side, his fingertips barely brushing your skin, and you shiver once again. You lean your head back, giving him a perfect opportunity to go at your throat, which he gladly takes. His teeth nip at your skin, his fingertips graze your hip bones, and you don't think he realises how much of a mess he's making you, but he does . Your arm is slung around the back of his neck, and you bring your hand up, tangling it in his hair, and it's so soft, and you tug at it just a bit. His hand then moves down, blunt nails dragging down your hip, and suddenly he's gripping onto your leg, his thumb digging into your inner thigh and you gasp, you move up reflexively, and he lets out the most beautiful sound you could never imagine. It's low and throaty, and you feel the vibration of it in his chest, which is pressed against yours, and you can feel his whole body is taut as a wire. He looks up at you, then, and with the faint traces of dawn's light you can see a golden fire in his eyes. The sun illuminates his sharp shoulders, his freckles, the way his hair spikes up here and there but still manages to look just as gorgeous as the rest of him. You see the emotions flickering in his eyes - ferocity and lust and intensity that you never expected from someone as soft and kind as him. Here you are, 6:03 in the goddamn morning, and you should feel tired, but you've never been more awake.

And suddenly, an idea clicks in your head.

You take advantage of the moment, wrapping your other arm around his waist, moving your knee up and to the side, swiftly flipping him onto his back. He seems shocked. Good. Now, hovering over him, legs intertwined, you look down at him, looking at him the same way he did to you. He swallows again, and you bite your lip; you lean down, taking what's yours. Kissing first his jawline then down his throat, you move your head down, tongue trailing over his Adam's apple.

It's just as exquisite as you thought it was going to be.

And the sounds he's making now, god, you're fighting so hard to keep any of your composure. You move down, spending a little more time on his throat, then you move to his collarbone, his chest, his ribs, his abdomen. You map out every inch of his skin, and his hand finds your hair. He tugs on it, and his other hand grips your arm, and you know he's losing his cool, and you feel victorious . His breathing is unsteady, and hell, so is yours. He arches into you, and you know it would be so easy to just let him take control, do whatever he wants to, but you're not that easy. It's one of the reasons he loves you as much as he does.

And then your hands are at his waistband, and your heart is pounding, and he's falling apart, and you can't help but let a soft sigh slip through your lips. He meets your gaze then, his lips parted again, a full flush covering his face, his hair messy, his breaths laboured. "Please," he whispers, and it's so quiet, you feel it more than you hear it, and your heart practically stops. It's all you need to keep you going; you carefully pull his sweatpants down and away, tossing them to the side of the bed, almost afraid to look at him because you know what you'll see could very well make you lose the little bit of control you gained.

It's almost like he senses this, and he trains his eyes on yours, daring you to return the gaze. You do, looking up at him with a sort of bold lust. His eyes are dark, and you can feel his tension like a current flowing between you both. Your face aflame, you bring your hands up again, easing him out of his briefs, and you pretend not to notice his sigh when he's finally free, but holy shit does it do something to you. Finally, you build up your nerve - though you shouldn't have to, it's not like you haven't done this before, but it's just... him - and look down, your blush burning hotter than the sun. You bite your lip, as does he, and you bring a hand over, wrapping it around his base, moving up until you reach his tip. Rubbing your thumb across it, you hear him choke out a groan, a short, breathy, almost desperate noise. "Fuck," he breathes, and it takes all you have not to grin. "Language," is all you mumble before licking your lips, lowering your head and slowly taking him in, inch by delicious inch. His hips buckle up, and you end up taking in more than you expected; you choke on him for a fraction of a second, but recover fast. He, however, doesn't recover, nor do you think he will any time soon. He practically whimpers out, his hand tangling almost harshly in your hair, tugging at it, falling apart before you've barely even done anything. You keep a hand on him, slowly pumping his base as you steadily move your head down, eventually taking him fully. He's shaking, and god damn do you love it.

Slowly, teasingly, you move your head back up, swirling your tongue around his tip, and his jaw opens slightly in a silent cry, his back arching up and his hips moving into your touch. "G-god," he chokes out, a shaky groan following. You make a soft hum, low enough to guarantee a vibration through him. You get the exact reaction you wanted, and you never knew one of his groans could reach a pitch so low. You begin bobbing your head up and down, going a little quicker this time, because you can't tease him forever. Your hand pumps him in time, keeping a steady rhythm with your lips and tongue, and he's moaning out your name, his hips are rolling with your motions, and holy hell you don't think you've ever been this turned on in your life . Your free hand moves up, gripping onto his thigh for leverage before moving over, and you surprise yourself with your boldness as you begin massaging his balls a bit. He lets out a husky sigh that quickly turns into a raspy groan, and his head rolls back, his hips arch up, and he's tugging at your hair again. You only move quicker, letting out a soft groan of your own, finally completely deepthroating him. You press your tongue hard against his base, and suck up harder going up his length. He moans out, and it's like a choir of fucking angels. You close your eyes for a second, letting the bliss wash over you for a brief moment before you continue moving exactly like that because you need to hear more of that music. His nails are digging into your upper arm now, and dragging across your scalp, and you can see from brief glances the sheen of sweat covering his body, his muscles tensing as he moves even slightly, the way his jaw looks sharper than a knife, the sunlight slanting in through the blinds and covering him in slats of gold and butterscotch and fire.

He continues moving into your touch, and you could swear he's barely stopping himself from pushing your head down over and over again. His breaths get shorter and shorter, and you can tell he's coming close, so close, and all you can feel is his heat, all you can hear is his moans, cracking just the slightest at the ends, and he fucking moans your name again, and god it makes you groan into him . "Please," he whines, and you know exactly what he's asking, and your heart is pounding again, because you know what's going to happen before it does. Down and up and down again, you apply even more pressure, swirling your tongue around his tip again because you know that drives him crazy, and that's all he needed.

The noise starts out low, deceptively low, but you know him better. You know his pitches, what they mean, the exact tone that gives away when he's been tipped over the edge. You crave hearing it, the way it escalates, the scratchy quality of it, the breaks in it that match perfectly with the control and composure he fights so hard to keep just crumbling and it's all because of you . You revel in your victory; you try to take in as much of his release as you're able to, because you fucking love the taste of him. He's panting, and groaning, and whimpering, and his grip on you has loosened, and he barely even has control of his body now. You make a point to keep eye contact with him as you lick your lips, feeling a few drops of his cum on the corner of your lip, dripping down to your jaw and throat and oh hell he's looking at it . Then his gaze meets yours and you're frozen, because with his eyes alone he's telling you you are absolutely screwed , and you can't tell which is stronger, your fear or your excitement.

"Come here," he murmurs, and his voice is just raspy enough to make you instinctively bite your lip. However, you simply crawl forward until you’re hovering over him, your hair falling like a curtain around the two of you. He brings his hand up, carefully wrapping it around the back of your neck and bringing you down to him, and you have to fight against a moan as his tongue trails up your throat, your jaw, your chin, your lips, and suddenly he's kissing you again, and he's so gentle but so rough, and you know he tastes himself, and that's enough to make your heart stop for a second. You close your eyes, losing yourself in him, and you barely even notice his hands moving down your sides, pulling at your waistband and subsequently pulling you closer to him, and he kisses you so deeply you can't help but moan into his mouth. Your hands grip onto his waist, and you're shaking, and he's pulling your leggings away, and you're helping him kick them to the side, and his hands are on you and Jesus Christ he feels so fucking good . His right hand holds onto your thigh, and his other hand brings your knees forward, and you're straddling his hips. His fingertips graze your abdomen, at the sensitive part of your skin just above the hem of your panties, and you shiver again, rolling your hips forward ever so slightly. He keeps a grip on your leg, and he can't even be bothered to take them off, he simply moves the part that's in the way to the side, and then he's slipping a finger - just one - into you, but the way he curls in, your hips buckle and your moan is swallowed by his kiss. Before long comes a second, and then a third, and you move up a bit and fucking hell, you're riding his fingers . His grip stays on your hip, keeping you steady as he just keeps moving, press up, curl in, move down, repeat the process. You feel a fire blazing up through you, starting from the heat of his fingertips and slowly moving up, up, up, causing your heart to slam in your chest, and you look down, right into his eyes, and you never knew a woman could feel this good. You curse out, and you can barely even get the word to properly leave your lips. He only smirks again, and you know he's gonna say it. "Language," he practically sings, and you would reply with a kind 'fuck you', but hell, you already are. You can only moan out in reply, and your voice is low, and scratchy, and you know it affects him from the way he licks and bites his lip again.

He begins moving quicker, and for a moment you reflect on how of course he'd be good with his fingers, he plays bass for fuck's sake , and he starts going a little rougher with you, he knows you can handle it, he knows you crave it, and Jesus Christ you can barely breathe. You keep a hand on his chest and the other on the arm that's keeping you upright, and your head hangs, you can barely control how much you're shaking, and you can't help it, you're moaning his name, and he smirks again, and you hate him for it. "G-god," you stutter out, and his lips part, because he fucking loves hearing how ragged you get because of him. You feel more and more pressure building up, and your nails are digging into his skin, and there's heat everywhere, you're sweating, and the sunlight's hitting him perfectly, and you lean your head back, you moan out, and you can feel everything in you building up so much, there's so much fucking pleasure , and you whisper a soft plea. You can barely even hear yourself, but he hears you, and your jaw drops in a soundless cry as a buzz makes your whole frame tremble, electricity flowing from the tips of your toes to the top of your scalp, and you whisper his name, and he lets out a low hum, and you can hear the satisfaction in it, you can feel the smirk on his face, and you can't help but groan out again. He lets you ride out the aftershocks, and you fight to get your breathing under control.

You look down at him, and his eyes are soft, but there's still an intensity in that gaze, and it stays as he slowly pulls his hand away, moves it up to his lips, and you can see his smirk in his eyes, and this son of a bitch , he slowly licks his fingers clean, sucking them off like god damn pieces of candy. He watches you watch him, and when he's done, his other hand comes up to the back of your neck, and you let him guide you down, and he's kissing you again. You can taste yourself on his lips, Jesus Christ you can taste yourself on his fucking lips , and he simply wraps his other arm around you, and it turns protective and soft, and you don't understand how he can go from fiercer than a tiger to soft as a kitten in such a short amount of time, but you love that about him.

You smile against his lips, and he's smiling too, and you know your life just wouldn't be complete without him. You break the kiss, but your lips still brush one another's, and you rest your forehead against his, rub noses like the cheesy shit you are, and he chuckles. "Love you," he whispers, and you say it right back.