[fanfiction] - Adam Carlson's POV of the Love Hypothesis

spheres

„...sex...", she breathes against my temple, low and soft and it starts an inferno within me. It let something snap in my brain, some last grasp at holding back, holding on to my self-perseverance, my last vessel of restraint and I grab.

Grab her, grab the moment, grab the momentum.

My desperate embrace finds her delicate curves, all ten fingers sinking into soft skin, even softer flesh. It's like her whole body was designed for the sole purpose of delighting my touch. A very self-centered, absolutely egoistical thought, but I am totally unarmoured to battle this feeling and can simply...

...enjoy.

That's what I do and my helpless groan heats her temple, where my lips touch her delicate skin. I lean back in my office chair, even imagining the mourning groan of said furniture being weighed down by two bodies instead of only one. Two very naked bodies, which is what makes this dream so ridiculous over the top unrealistic. Contrary to the usual dreams, where she suddenly appears in my bed at home, this here is inexplicably both: Less realistic and more plausible, although, that is the pure definition of a paradox. Yet, dream-Olive and dream-Adam don't care. Can't care, since there is too much delicious need, sexual heat and yearning crowding this moment.

Her sprawled body on top of me traps my dick between our stomachs and her slow, sensual movements feel too good to be true. Because they aren't but I don't care.

I may have underestimated the thriving need of my subconsciousness to sexdream of her. And now it's overpowering me, bombarding me with pictures, feels and what-ifs as if I subdued it too long. Drowning me in a scenario, I can't fight, because it's simply too much.

"Yes!" She exhales, encouraging me to grab her even tighter, guide her languid movements on top of me, slowly rocking her back and forth on my naked frame. Letting her puckered nipples grape my chest, letting her hips roll in my hands.

Rocking me. Rocking my cock.

God, I'm leaking.

It's so damn hot, I can't properly breathe. My helpless shudders tense all my muscles and I'm sweating. Fuck, I want that forever, but the heat is eating me alive.

"I won't last!" I groan. Desperately pressing her stomach on my own, trapping my leaking dick between us, letting it get wrenched in the most sinful, delightful way.

And I didn't lie. It is already way too much to endure, I won't. I half panic, realising that. I won't last. But then it will be over and I really, I REALLY can't accept that. I don't want this to be over, ever.

Ever.

"Help." It flees my choked throat like a prayer and my head falls back on the chair, my neck simply giving up. But Olive follows me, follows me all the way, suddenly the roles are reversed. I no longer take, what she is giving me, greedily snatching all of her.

Suddenly it's her, her lips on my throat, her breath on my skin, her movements on top of me, no longer guided, but emancipating. Rolling effortlessly by their own, my desperately grabbing hands on her hips nothing more than a leash, she's rebelling against.

And she completely misunderstands my pathetic cry for help. Reverses it into an even darker shade of lust.

Her hands travel down – from where, I can't even tell. One second, I am blissfully unaware of her traveling fingers, the next, I am catapulted into something like an immediate orgasm, a confetti-exploding moment of unexpected pleasure, when her hand finds my cock, playful fingers stroking my length before gripping it – eager, fast, exactly the perfect combination of too strong and not strong enough.