Outside, the frost settles in for the night.

The crackling of the fire drowns out the 18 degree weather just outside. The movie prattles on its script; we pay neither of them any attention. I lay with the back of my head on your stomach, shoulders just under your legs. Your hands locked together on my chest, mine on the outside of your thighs.

 

I can hear your breaths getting quicker each time my cheek touches your arm. We both play at watching the movie, real intentions towards counting the minutes till our next kiss. My head shakes as you laugh at the witty commentary…okay, maybe you’re paying more attention than me. I look back to catch a glimpse of your smile at the television, then down towards me. The red tips of your ears tell me all I need to know.

 

Your eyes soften as they sparkle green in the embers of firelight. You look down towards my lips; I know you want a kiss. I turn around and you wrap your arms around my back, pulling me close. The movie drones on and is lost in the crackling of the fire. Our eyes close before our lips touch and the smell of your skin puts me in a frenzy. Our lips embrace only for a few moments as you push my head into the crook of your neck, moaning out the pleasure you so obviously feel.

 

Your hips grind into me and I know you can feel my erection eager to get its way. Your hair is squished into my own buzzed hair as I pull away, both of us giggling at the touch of silliness inflicting the agenda. The thin sheathe of clothing we wear the only barrier left as we stare into each other’s eyes. Both of us knowing what we want, both of us knowing the inevitable outcome; both of us placating the time until midnight.

 

“Do you want to go upstairs?” I ask her, already knowing the answer. The slight upturn of the corners of her mouth, the smallest of smiles as she sits up to kiss me. She pushes upwards into me and we both stand together, embracing the moment as the warmth of the fire embraces us. The crackling a constant soundtrack bearing sole witness. She pulls away and looks down as she turns, my hand in hers, towards the stairs.

 

©Ramon Sturdivant

 

 

 

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