FLYING | Sequel of FALLEN (NaNoWriMo 2022 WINNER)

31.

"Do we really have to get up?" Marcel whines from the crook of my neck, his voice muffled against my skin.

He climbed over me maybe an hour ago, and he hasn't had enough of me yet. We kept our core clothed, but that hasn't kept him from grinding me to bliss a few times. I had fallen asleep to the pleasure and been awakened by the same sensation a handful of times with sweet nothing murmured to my ear.

"Maybe we can stay like this a few more minutes."

The tip of his fingers trail down my body, mapping every curve and protuberance on its way, lingering delightfully on the outer part of my nipple to apply just enough pressure to the pink bud to gasp in his ear.

"I wish we could be like this forever." He breathes, tickling my neck as he does.

"The future is ours to make of it what we want. I told you that we should use this retreat to reconnect with ourselves and with each other. I meant it. Whether it's like this, or if it means teaching for you..."

"It's hard, you know... I thought I had everything I ever wanted in life. I thought I was content. And then I met you. How could I have fooled myself like that? I wasn't happy. I didn't even know the true depth of the word."

"We were in similar situations. Concepts like Love and Happiness are vague and take the form that we are willing to mould into them. Happiness for me meant to have the flat to myself to write, knowing perfectly well that Steeve would come back pissed and would impose himself on me. I accepted that. I found some joy in it. And that's how I defined the word. That's the beauty of the language, it evolves with the semantics, with our own personal baggage."

"I wish I had met you during my time at Uni."

"But you did."

"I wish we could have shared classes, debated together, refuted each other."

"Isn't that what we do anyway?"

"We do, but it's just... We are so similar and yet we have two very distinctive perspectives on life. Like you said, our semantics are different because of our own personal baggage."

His hand trails away from my breast to map their way from the valley to my neck.

"Do you think we would've had sex if we hadn't heard them?" He asks me, sliding off me to look at me with more attention.

"I don't think we would have, no. I wasn't in the mood for that. But there are so many ways we are intimate with each other without even being naked. This being one of them. I love when you share your mind with me. We connect, we share, we grow, without judgement or expectations. Your eyes say plenty enough."

"If my eyes could fuck you they would."

"You have such a vocabulary when you want."

"I'm a man of the people."

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not."

"You're my man."

"I'm your man." His eyes sparkle with pride. They're telling everything that I already know. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

I lean slowly towards him for our lips to meet, but we are interrupted by the sound of the bedroom door across the corridor open. We both looked at ours, the same way we heard the noise.

Marcel pecks my lips and hops off the bed with a new spring in his steps. He opens the door, only clothed of his briefs hanging low, so very beautifully low. Exposing the size of his remarkable wings tattooed on his back. But my mind drifts to the proud smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He doesn't say anything as he looks ahead, at the person clearly at their bedroom door. He crosses his arms on his chest and leans his weight against the door frame.