He's naked, sprawled on your very bed. Your very unmade bed which you should have really redo that morning; still, you can't pay attention to those scattered sheets if they have him upon them. His blonde hair glows like an halo around his angelical face, and you suddenly feel like you're desacrating something too angelical to even exist. However, the lust in his eyes is all but angelical. You climb on the bed and stay seated on your heels so that you can admire all that beauty. Your hands hitch for a brush to try and immortalize him on a canvas. But he's eager, and you're too far for him to reach you. He groans exasperated because he knows (he always does) that you have still doubts about this. That he doesn't want you. He touches your chest firmly as if he's trying to reach in your heart and cancel all those dark thoughts. And then he kisses you, and you can't think anymore. He makes love like he fights. He has to prove a point. You bit his lower lip, drawing a sort of mewling sound. You know exactly what he likes in bed, you know his body like you know yours. You map his firm chest with your tongue, his hands in your curly hair. You know what he wants and needs the most now. You kiss his abdomen because everything about him is loveable and wonderful and you just want to kiss every inch. You bite his hip bone, marking him as yours. You tease him, licking and biting soflty his inside thighs. He is panting now, and he begs you to do it, to release him; you could never deny him something. You kiss the head softly, licking the shaft, and then you take him all in your mouth. He's long and thick, but you are used to it. He cries out loud, pulling your hair: consequently, your only free hand goes to your lenght, trying to release some tension. His voice is a siren call. You take him all in until your nose is buried in the golden hair. You bob your head up and down, and you angel can't take it anymore. You tell him to go on, and you keep him in your mouth. His hips are shaking when he comes. You lick him all clean, but you're shaking too. He brings you up and kisses you messily, tasting himself in you. His hands go from your hair to your back, pushing you flush against him. You want him so much that it hurts. He asks what you want, and he knows that it will always be him. You prepare yourself while he positions himself above you. You are staring in each other's eyes, and this is why they call it 'making love', you think. He lowers himself and finally he is inside you, and you beg him to please, please move because it's never enough. Your hips meet his in a steady rhytm until you moan because he hits that spot. And you are becoming undone under his body, you are becoming a constellation thanks to his light. He hits that spot over and over again, and you can't deny him anything, so you come between them. He immediately follows, screaming your name and filling you up with his warmth. The sun rays of an early morning makes his skin shine, and you nearly cry for this miracle, for holding him in your arms. He notices, and he tells you that he loves you, you are his moon. It's useless to tell him that he's your sun. He knows it. (He always does)
YOU ARE READING
you are my sun, let me orbitate around you
Fanfiction"It's useless to tell him that he's your sun. He knows it. (He always does)"
