I throw myself back on the bed, laughing at myself, one hand over my eyes. The other hand… well, let's just say I wish it were yours. I can't help myself; you've only been gone twelve hours and I can't control my libido, or other associated areas… Don't get me wrong, it's not the sex that I'm missing – it's the sparkly feeling I get when your skin's next to mine, when you're pressed against me… Hell, I could have sex anytime, all I need is what I have now... and a few of those strategically–placed photos…
Yeah, those photos! I laugh a little more, amused at my own insatiability. The first one I find is of myself, and I have to admit I look good in it – you remember, I'm on my hands and knees on the bed, looking over my shoulder and smiling at you, behind the camera… wearing that schoolgirl's uniform you always wanted to see me in. The skirt is so short you can see my knickers, and I remember how I spread my legs just a little, enough to tease you… until you ripped off said knickers, unzipped the fly of your jeans and told me to call you “Sir” as you sat me in your lap. And on your lap. It might have been rough, but God it was erotic. You had me face away from you to begin with; you whispered in my ear, hotly and sexily, that seeing as it was your fantasy, you wanted me to enjoy it as much as you were. I don't know where you got the impression that I wasn't, but I wasn't about to complain as you started to rock your hips up to me just a little, just shallowly, not enough to give you any satisfaction but enough to make sure you were rubbing against my sweet spot almost constantly, until I was gasping with need and you, Mr. Control, were barely breaking a sweat. So you stroked me a little – it didn't take much – and, while I was still recovering, you somehow manoeuvred me round so I was facing you, straddling your hips with you still inside me… Your smouldering eyes, delicious mouth, not to mention the fact that we were both still almost fully clothed and you, as-yet unsatisfied, inside me… these forces conspired that I should soon once again be achingly hard and begging you to fuck me. So you did, hard this time, and just as amazing. Again when you knew I was close you stroked me till I saw stars, but still you didn't let yourself climax, you were still in charge. I collapsed against you, and you held me for a few minutes… and then you started to whisper. Things you knew would get me excited again, insatiable one that I am! This time you wanted sexy little me to do all the work – so I did. No matter that you'd already given me two mind-numbingly earth-shatteringly intense orgasms that each reduced me to Duo-shaped jelly, because you have such an inexplicable effect on me that as soon as you even think about me in a sexual way – I can tell, y'know – I'm ready again. And so I was the one moving that third time, even down to touching myself so you could see: I know you like to watch me; and you know I like to watch you. I think it was me touching that finally tipped you over the edge. Finally! And you have will-power of gundanium. I remember I used to feel a bit upset that I could only make you climax when you let yourself, when decided to let go; but then you reassured me that it isn't like that. You may have iron control, but I'm the one who makes you lose it.
It felt good when you told me that.
It felt good to see you, eyes closed, head thrown back, gasping my name and shuddering; felt so good I joined you in your ecstasy, screaming, collapsing into your arms.
I laugh, even as I feel how hard I am right now, unable – and unwilling – to stop thinking about you. I've been deliberately teasing myself with light touches, but thinking back makes me want more. So I unfasten my jeans for easier access, and slip a hand inside. Underwear is for cissies who don't have the sexiest man in the world for their boyfriend – it might sometimes get uncomfortable, but this way it's easier to relieve that discomfort, often at very short notice.
My eye falls upon another photo. I got them out for just such an emergency. This one is of you, and the moment I see it I feel a sudden upsurge of excitement. In the photo you're wearing that frilly apron, and nothing else, but it's the look on your face that really gets me going. It was the first time you'd dressed up for me, and your expression as I took the photo showed a combination of emotions. In it, you're nervous about having the photo taken, not willing for such a pose to be seen outside out bedroom, in the stark light of lust-free day – but the point is rather that such a reminder turns said lust-free day into one filled with all sorts of wonderful lust-fuelled activities. You're maybe even a little scared of the predatory gleam in my eye, and maybe you were right to be: I wanted you to act like an obedient servant, a role which I never would have guessed you'd be so good at. I wouldn't want anyone else to guess, either: I love our secrets. There's something else in your expression too, that makes me respond now as then: beneath the nervousness and uncertainty, there's a look of overwhelming lust. You look as though you're afraid of such a strong feeling of desire; it makes you look virginal, unused to your own body and my appetite for it. The look in your deep blue eyes… But the photo version pales in comparison to the real thing. Every time I gaze into those eyes I feel everything slip away, all the frustration I feel at the world for the bad things that happen; all my frustration at you for not feeling it like I do. Or, at least, for not showing it like I do: I know you care, or you wouldn't have been able to do all the things you've done; and you wouldn't be able to look in my eyes and have that effect you always have on me. You overpower my anger, make me focus on me and you, channel my passion into our lovemaking, challenge me into either submitting to you or making you submit. Either way is good! Because either way, you make me feel like I'm the only one who could do these things with you and to you, the only one who could be this part of you: I'm the only one who can make you purr this way.
Oh God, I can't control it, I'm laughing at myself through my self-induced pleasure but I'm not doing enough of anything to achieve any kind of satisfaction just yet: I might have got all night without you, I have to find some sort of substitute! I just can't stop myself from giggling! I think of all the wonderful days we've wasted in bed: no, not wasted, because they've been some of the most life-affirming sun-shining days of my life. I, or you, or both, might have been a bit sore the morning after, but I don't even need to mention it was worth it.
Ah, some of those days spring to my lust-clouded mind right now: days spent as your pet, sitting on the floor beside you, waiting for you to give me an instruction or an idea. And I waited patiently! You were surprised at me for that. But you, I suppose, can never know how it feels to be me when I'm tending your every need. Perfect, I told you, you're perfect in everything you've ever done. I'd told you lots of times; I was convinced of your perfection…
“But not so perfect,” you said as you slapped me. I looked at you, I remember, in surprise. That was the first time you hit me… Right now I hiss in remembrance of the little sting it gave, so sharp but so good…! And I used it to my advantage another day:
“C'mon, Heero, just a little slap!”
“But you've hit me before! Just like I've hit you! Come on lover, I just want a bit of a bruise, maybe a split lip…”
You looked at me, those inquisitive eyebrows raised.
I smiled, a little sheepishly, but at the same time with a hint of promise: “I just thought if I looked like I'd been in a fight or walked into a door Une would believe me when I call in sick.”
You thought about that for a moment, clearly enticed by the idea of spending the day off work, in bed, with me…But… “But what about me?” you wondered.
But I'd got it all worked out. “Well, I need looking after, don't I?” I'd been crawling up the bed as you'd been thinking, and now I pounced, naked, onto your equally nude form.
“I know some much better ways of making your lips swollen and bruising you,” you muttered, moving in close to my throat with your teeth.
I gasped then, and I echo it now… I'm so close, Heero, Heero! You might not believe me but you've captured my heart, I don't want it back, it's yours to do what you want with! I feel my body convulse, out of my control, I'm whispering, gasping, yelling your name and assorted curses; this is the sort of love I want! We might not say it all the time but when you want me to hold you, I hold you; when I need loving you're there.
After a few minutes my body is relatively calm again; I can't prevent the smile I lost momentarily in the throes of orgasm from returning, from becoming a giggle: I'm just so fucking happy to be your lover! I look at the clock and realise I still have no idea when you'll be back… Oh, if you don't come back soon there'll be nothing left of me, just thinking about you is enough to wipe me out! But not for long, sweetness; I know that if I think about you in a short while I'll be back to square one. I take off my clothes now for something to do; lick the stickiness off my hand and wipe the rest off my stomach with some tissue; settle back on the bed with a wide smile on my face, as I start to think about you again, my sexy lover. Thinking about you naked, sprawled on the bed like I am now; thinking about being between your legs, teasing you, keeping you in suspense… maybe cuffing you to the headboard again, now that was fun…
I giggle again, reach down again, begin to stroke myself again… when I hear a familiar voice from the doorway…
“Anything left for me?”
I look up, a little startled but still giggling. I don't pause in my stroking, but meet your gaze as you continue to stand there.