Bound 2

Bound 2 The Sink

Three long and dragging months had passed. She'd stayed home as he traveled abroad. He always wanted to see the world. They hadn't seen each other since May 2nd, which also happened to be the anniversary of when she gave him her virginity. They had occasional calls or face times, but hadn't spoken face to face in what felt like forever.

His mischievous demeanor made her melt. He teased her in their group chat of friends. Well, he teased everyone but before they were dating she pretended it was just her he treated that way.

She had a very large house, or mansion if you will. He had always been fond of it. He had different fantasies of what he'd do to her in between the tall walls—wishing that one day those dreams would be reality.

Saturday, August 21st—he had been home from his trip for a few days now—he hopped in his sage green Subaru and made the usual ten minute trip into six minutes, driving near double the speed limit.

She'd been waiting in her room, sketching a portrait of the two of them when she heard the slam of his car door. She raced to the window and looked out, catching the gaze of her boyfriend.

She grinned broadly and sprinted down the hallway and practically jumped down the grand staircase, meeting him at the front door in an embrace. She jumped into his arms much like you read about in books. But this wasn't a book fairytale—this was their reality. She wafted in his usual cologne. The sweatshirts he gave her didn't hold his smell anymore. He stroked her hair and smelled the milk chocolate smell that he knew and loved.

"I missed you." He whispered softly as she pulled away to look into his eyes.

They examined each other's features. She held his face in her hands as he gripped her lower back to keep her from dropping down. Her thumb was running across his cheek and she pecked his nose, cheeks, and forehead.

"I love you." He rasped. "I mean I really really fucking love you."

"I love you more." She challenged. Hearing those words again in person made the butterflies fly in her stomach like they always had.

He slowly lowered her to her feet and towered over her slightly, but not too much. He was about seven inches taller than her, and neither of them wanted it another way. "I love you the most."

She took his finger and dragged him in the door. His shoes slid off before they climbed the stairs and down the hall to her room.

Tall ceiling, a connecting bathroom, big queen bed, it was perfect to spend a day home alone with a significant other.

He took his coat off as they both sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back, staring at the tall ceiling. He was laying on her left, and her on his right. To the right of her was the wall with the door to the long and skinny bathroom, as well as the hallway door, which was open ajar.

They spent some time catching up. He showed pictures from his trip, she shared some of her new favorite art pieces, and they both were extremely happy to be with each other.

Obviously, they missed talking with each other, but they also missed being with each other... intimately. He was sick of using his hand and her tiny vibrator had seen better days.

They talked quietly for an hour on her bed as they cuddled, both of them trying to ignore the increase of blood flow in their pelvic region.