My Laughing Coffin [SAO fan-fiction]

[Deleted]Chapter 17: Late At Night

[Content Warning: This chapter contains graphic depictions of sexual themes and language. Though not directly affecting the storyline, this chapter is meant to establish the connection between the two characters. There are no significant plot points that will be overlooked by skipping this chapter and continuing to Chapter 18. You have been warned!]

Esther slept quietly in the bed while I sat upright on the couch, tracing the edge of my ax with my thumb. Anxiety kept me awake and put Esther to sleep following our night of lust-filled hours. I wouldn't have expected her to make such bold moves in such quick succession, nor I to act on them - but I think the danger of our circumstances aroused something in both of us. As if the taboo of letting our guards down with one another somehow cut the tension we shared. For a moment, my eyes wandered back to the shape of her, wrapped in the heavy white linens of the bed across the room.

My mind dialed back to the moment she'd rolled over in the shared bed, her lips inches from my neck, the heat from her labored breath tickling the nerves on my skin. I tried to ignore it. Pretend like the smell of her brown hair didn't make my jaw clench, like the tracing of her fingertips against my arms didn't reflexively move me closer to her, the anticipation of me caving in made my heartthrob. I tried to ignore it like I always did until I'd met her eyes.

We'd sat there for some time before I rolled over on top of her, her big brown owl eyes melting the steel will I'd desperately tried to maintain until now.

Now that I'd made a move, we were too close in this dark room for my eyes to meet hers. The covers had been thrown to the floor. I'd removed my sleepwear, or maybe that was her, and our lips finally touched. The tension in my shoulders relaxed the moment she'd wrapped her arms around me, allowing my full weight to lean into her. I'd become primal, my muscle, my weight, my desire - she was caged beneath me, but the warmth of her arms pulling me closer had me wondering who had trapped who.

She trembled beneath me, and I quaked above her. I pulled away for an instant and froze.

Moonlight gave form to the shadows of her face, reminding me that I was handling art. I wanted to stare - I wanted to marvel, to contemplate, but priceless art she was not.

She required affection, not admiration.

She asked for celebration, not glorification.

Respect, not worship

I could see her; in all the majesty of the act, I could see her. I closed my eyes and returned to the earth, having memorized every hill and valley that rose and fell at her will. From the ridges of her breast to the depressions of her stomach and back, I'd chartered a course to voyage. She retreated further up the bed with every pass my tongue made through her waters till she sat upright.

The moment I'd reached dry shores, attempting to return to her lips, she seized control and threw me to my back, laying on top of me. She'd had enough of the journey my tongue had across her terrace. I'd sown seeds into her womanhood, and her garden blossomed as she grabbed me, guiding me inside of her to the fruits of our labor.

I had reached the deepest parts of her while she'd reached the peaks of me. She laid her head against mine, her hair curtaining our heads like the centimeters between our lips were the most sacred parts of us.

I widened my hand to engulf the thickness of her thigh and clutched a handful of linen with the other as she began to take me for a ride. Her hips thrust forward to elevate the pressure, then backward to apply it. She found a rhythm to please herself and a tempo to thrill me. I had to interval between suffocating beneath her lips and pulling away to marvel her, each action feeling like an injustice to the other.

I could feel her periodically clench down on me, freezing for a moment to whine only to resume as if revived by her pleasure. It was only when she'd slowed that rhythm and the worn muscles in her legs trembled that I saw my opportunity, I shifted my hand from her thigh to her back, and released my death grip on the linens to secure the base of her neck as I rolled on top of her-- once again pinning her against the mattress.

With my arm hoisting her waist upwards, I reached a spot deeper than I'd gone before.

I attacked as I ascended to my climax, compromising the integrity of her spine as she arched upwards against me. I pulled out, finishing across her as her legs wrapped around me.

I laid above her, my head against hers as we panted like dogs with my arms locked to suspend me just above the lips of an angel.

Control is all I've ever wanted, but I couldn't control people. I could only control myself.

I stood from the couch and made my way back to Esther. After showering, she'd curled into the covers, awaiting my return to the bed. I'd traced my fingers long enough; there was still time for sleep before we had to return to reality. I crawled into bed with her, situating myself on her back under the covers, her body almost instinctually nestling against mine.

As I looked across Esther while she slept, the memories from what seemed like a lifetime ago had made me nostalgic for her. Nostalgic for her touch, her conversation, and her intellect. But nostalgia filled me with the worry of the present.

What were we now?

Could we ever be like what we were before, or did I have to adapt to something else now?

Would talking about it change the situation, or would it be better left unsaid to preserve the purity of it all?

"Fuck.." I mouthed.

I'd sought control for so long, and just as I'd gained it-- I think I'd forfeited it.