|Passion, Once Removed
Not mine, no money. I put slash in the subject line as a warning for the faint at heart, but I actually consider it Adult. I wonder if we need a special warning for threesomes? This one's -- surprise! -- D/M/A. <eg>
My Amanda muse finally made it home, and at the bottom of her luggage, buried under all the dirty laundry, was a little Christmas present just for me. I was so touched.
At least, I think it was for me. Come to think of it, Amanda may have been shopping for herself again.
Either way, I thought I'd share it.
Happy Holidays, y'all!
A hot breath, a soft touch, a seeking hand stroking gently up a tender thigh.
She watched his eyes close on the sensation, watched him shut out the world, and the room, and the bed. Watched as his focus turned inward, unmindful for the moment of giving pleasure, caught and enthralled by pleasure received. She moved. Slowly, gently, she raised her hips slightly and felt the other move with her, pushing forward, keeping the balance between them. Keeping the edge of release just there, just out of reach, just one, fragile movement away. And then stopping.
His breath caught on a gasp; his eyes opened to stare at her, unseeing. She moved and he blinked, saw her again and smiled as he lowered his lips to hers. A taste, a moment to savor her flavor, then he moaned into her mouth as the other moved, changing the rhythm again, forcing him against her, into her, again and again as she lifted to meet him, capturing him once again with her hands, her hips, her thighs. Pulling him tightly into the softness that sustained him against the strengthening passion that drove him inexorably forward.
Neither controlled the moment, or their movements, or each other. They had surrendered to the other. To their anchor, their control in this investigation of pleasure's boundaries. The one they depended on to guide them to the edge, then push them over and see them safely through the tumbling fall of passion to the deliverance of release.
It was a long time coming, this moment. The patient days of waiting rewarded in a single second of openness. No plans were made, no traps laid or weaknesses exploited. Just a chance meeting of eyes sharing an unspoken thought, then a few words spoken softly by lips left wet by eager tongues. A single smile, a touch, and they moved -- a tontine, drawn together at this place by the one who would be their guide. The youngest, but their center none the less. The strongest, he pulled them together without coercion.
And now he held them. His. And used them for his pleasure and theirs. An unselfish lover, he maintained the delicate balance of three hungers, blending them into one, merging their desires as he merged their bodies. Teaching his elders not about passion, but perhaps some small thing about love.
The other moved again and the middle shifted, pulled from her arms to the shelter of his. Lifted, held, his upper body embraced by stronger arms than hers, his center still captive in the wet heat between her thighs. She watched them kiss, listened to the soft murmur of promises made and accepted, then raised her arms to welcome him back. She held him, and her acceptance was the strength that braced them as it began again.
The movements quickened and she gave herself to him, felt him forced against her, into her, stronger, harder, faster. Again the other demanded, and again they complied. She was taken, opened, used, but never slighted. He was giver and taker, conduit, middle, by his own choice. A bargain that traded control for the pleasures that only surrender could bring. The bounty of his body was hers to take also, and she demanded and received her share. She was the foundation, yielding but not passive. Succoring him with her acquiescence, she submitted to the strength of the other through his body. In turn buffeted and shielded by his choice, she returned pleasure for pleasure, mirroring, rebounding, building, returning what she took tenfold.
The other allowed no hesitation, never paused, relentless in his power, commanding without words. His strength was their buttress, a fiery beacon guiding them to heaven or hell. The other demanded, and he succumbed. She accepted, and he retreated. An endless, mindless, dizzying relay of desire, and appetite, and blinding obsession.
Until finally, finally...the blissful...jubilant...melting resolution. Twisting, turning, spiraling down, her body and theirs tangled and entwined. She felt him shaking in her arms, his lips soft and warm against her neck. She heard the other whisper his name, and felt him tremble at the word. A revelation of need, not mere desire, from an ancient soul who hid too well, and had been too long alone. She held him to her, cradling him as he hid his tear-streaked face against her breast. She ran her fingers through his hair, and felt the other stroking gentle, calming hands along his sides.
A lull, a calm moment at the eye of the storm...to rest, to breathe. A respite in which to offer a kiss of desire, a touch of comfort, a whisper of acceptance.
And then, to begin again.