Snapshots of Desire ✔ [Completed]

Hands

Daya sits with Shreya while she is in the hospital.

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They sat in a comfortable silence. Daya held his coffee that had long gone cold. Shreya felt her eyelids droop. She pressed a button on the arm of her hospital bed and lowered the back.

"Lie down with me, Daya. I need something concrete in front of me."

Without hesitation, he set his cup down and went to her. She scooted over to make room and turned on her side so she could face him.

They looked at each other. Still, the silence was comfortable, and their looks were not blank, but not questioning each other, either.

Shreya brought her hand to Daya’s face and gently ran her thumb across his bottom lip. "I like this lip," she said with a soft smile. "I don't know if it juts out a little bit from all the pouting you do or if it's from eating sunflower seeds."

He smirked, pleased at her harmless teasing. "I don't pout."

"You're doing it now," she said, laughing.

Her hand was resting under his chin now. He lowered his face to nestle closer to her.

Taking her lead, he put his hand on her cheek and brushed his thumb lightly over her upper lip. "I like this mole. Why do you cover it up?"

She simply shrugged. His hand moved to her shoulder.

"Did you use your special Shreya Chadha charms to get out of wearing a hospital gown?" he asked as he fingered the collar of her sweatshirt.

"I think when you move in indefinitely they let you bend the rules," Shreya said without a trace of sadness that the comment warranted. Daya fought to have his facial expression match her casual demeanour.

"This sweatshirt is so soft. It's like made out of angels' wings or something," he remarked. "Sorry. That sounds morose, doesn't it?" he added.

Shreya looked at him with a small smile. "My mom got it for me. It's very cozy."

Daya moved his hand to rest on her hip. Her sweatshirt had risen slightly at her waist and Daya’s thumb grazed her exposed skin. He started to trace circles on her. "Your skin is softer, though."

A surge like a lightning bolt went through her as she felt wetness seep into her underwear. She drew in a breath and then exhaled with an inaudible chuckle. Shreya was overcome with relief that her body responded this way. She had been so dry and stagnant in that regard even when she had played her hottest fantasies in her mind. Her treatments were taking their toll on her body in ways for which she wasn't prepared. She had tried to relieve some stress but just ended up raw and frustrated.

Daya noticed her quickness of breath and the unexplainable grin on her face. She looked stricken by a sudden happiness. He wasn't sure what he had missed.

Finally, her eyes met his own confused eyes.

"I'm not wearing anything underneath it," she said, matter of factly.

"Why are you telling me that? To stop me or to encourage me?" asked Daya, seriously.

"Don't stop."

She shifted so she was lying on her back, but kept her eyes on his. Daya’s heart thudded inside his chest. He could swear he could hear its beat.

Daya slowly moved his hand to her stomach and caressed her silky skin, dipping his thumb to circle her belly button. He could feel goosebumps prick up, but her skin was warm to his touch. His hand inched higher and he splayed his fingers just under her chest. He applied light pressure as he rubbed, his fingertips grazing the underside of her breasts. Shreya’s breath hitched, sharply.

Daya watched her watching him. He would've been looking at what he was about to touch if she wasn't wearing this sweatshirt, but this was so incredibly erotic that he didn't mind that he wasn't getting a peek at them.

Shreya held her breath as his hand moved to her breast. As he descended and fully cupped her, she let out what sounded like a sob.

This contact between them was overwhelming. It felt so good that she could almost come or cry or both. New moisture escaped her and her chest buzzed with desire.

Daya kneaded and squeezed with just the right amount of pressure, his palm skimming over her hardened nipple. The pleasure was so intense that it bordered on pain. Her clit throbbed and ached. And before she realized she was crying, a tear escaped from the corner of her eye and rested atop her cheek.

They still hadn't broken their eye contact. Daya watched as she experienced every sensation and emotion. He was about ready to cry, too, from the beauty of it and the intensity of it. He leaned down to kiss the tear and Shreya softly moaned. He pressed his lips to her cheek and then her forehead. She sucked in deep breaths and let them out raggedly.

Daya removed his hand from her chest and she shuddered from the loss of contact.

"Daya," she sighed, softly.

He pressed his forehead to her temple and whispered "Shreya" in her ear, and she shuddered again.

His hand travelled down her belly and teased the elastic of her leggings before skating underneath. He found her sex moist and slick.

Daya pulled his head away from hers so he could look at her. He slipped his fingers inside her and watched her face twist in pleasure. Another tear slid down her cheek.

She was hot and tight around his fingers. The sound of her wetness on his hand as he pumped in and out of her mingled with the soft whimpers and moans that escaped her throat.

"Daya," she managed to choke out as more tears fell. His vision blurred as emotion overcame him, as well.

She looked pained, desperate for release, and he wanted to give it to her. He put his fingers, slippery with her arousal, over her clit and rubbed, vigorously.

She felt that familiar tingle in the pit of her stomach. It emanated outward to her chest and her limbs. The fact that she was about to have an orgasm—after a much too long hiatus—and that it was at the hand of her love was making the build up so much more acute.

The last thing she saw before she squeezed her eyes shut was Daya intently looking at her, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Afterward, he tried not to think of how small and frail she felt in his arms when she was electric and alive under his hand moments ago.

The End