[They can focus on this. They can sink into the familiarity of lips crashing and bodies fitting together.
There are sounds on his lips as his hips shift under her, urgent for the warmth of her, but they have no form or substance. There don't need to be words here. They don't need to think about words here; about promises. They just need to be.
It's a relief, after a day like this, to fall back into the familiar pleasure of losing himself in the sensation of thrusting up into her. (It's not worth examining the emotional truth of the relief beyond the pure relaxation of stress.)]
[ they don't need words. they don't need anything beyond the physical sensation of this, the push and pull and thrust of it. they can lose themselves in the rhythm and in the familiar rush of this physical kind of joining.
there's just this: rolling her hips just so, taking him deeper, her hands on his shoulder, next to his head, the proximity and synchronicity.
this, they know. this is something they've always been good at, somehow. a language they both know how to speak, of gasps and deep breaths and quiet moans. ]
[She's wonderful like this. She's like another piece of himself--or perhaps he's another piece of her. The lines aren't terribly bright and the tangle doesn't have much of a direction.
Some of the sounds on his lips are her name. Most aren't. Some of the shifts and tugs are to be certain, when their lips aren't crushed together, that he can see her face properly. Most aren't.
It isn't the vows that make this different (more). It's just that it's her.]
[ most of the sounds on his lips aren't her name--but some are. her first name, lara, and it's not that he's never called her that before, but somehow, this moment, this tangling together feels all the more intimate for it.
or maybe that's nothing to do with her name. maybe that's everything to do with him, with the fact that it's him, --with the vow, too.
(the vow doesn't mean anything, not really, but
maybe it does.)
when they aren't kissing, he's looking at her and lara finds herself looking back, as unable as unwilling to hide anything-- how this is affecting her, in more ways than the physical. ]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2021-10-31 01:48 pm (UTC)There are sounds on his lips as his hips shift under her, urgent for the warmth of her, but they have no form or substance. There don't need to be words here. They don't need to think about words here; about promises. They just need to be.
It's a relief, after a day like this, to fall back into the familiar pleasure of losing himself in the sensation of thrusting up into her. (It's not worth examining the emotional truth of the relief beyond the pure relaxation of stress.)]
no subject
Date: 2021-11-06 07:05 pm (UTC)there's just this: rolling her hips just so, taking him deeper, her hands on his shoulder, next to his head, the proximity and synchronicity.
this, they know. this is something they've always been good at, somehow. a language they both know how to speak, of gasps and deep breaths and quiet moans. ]
no subject
Date: 2021-11-07 04:56 pm (UTC)Some of the sounds on his lips are her name. Most aren't. Some of the shifts and tugs are to be certain, when their lips aren't crushed together, that he can see her face properly. Most aren't.
It isn't the vows that make this different (more). It's just that it's her.]
no subject
Date: 2022-01-05 08:28 pm (UTC)or maybe that's nothing to do with her name. maybe that's everything to do with him, with the fact that it's him, --with the vow, too.
(the vow doesn't mean anything, not really, but
maybe it does.)
when they aren't kissing, he's looking at her and lara finds herself looking back, as unable as unwilling to hide anything-- how this is affecting her, in more ways than the physical. ]