Wild Hearts

A Simple And Powerful Truth

In his room, his plain white-walled room with a single poster bed and a shelf for CDs and a handful of books. There's an ACDC poster on one wall and a single window to let in the light. His board now rests against the wall. His house was quiet, a silence that allowed me to hear the furious rhythm of my heart.

"Where do I sleep?" I ask, glancing at the bed.

"Where do you think?" His hands grasp the sides of my head and he kisses me, tongue teasing into my mouth. Then just as swiftly, he pulls apart. I feel the shock of his hand as she shoves me back onto the bed. My world spins and then he's on top of me, knee pressed onto my inner thigh. The same hand pins my chest to the bed.

"How far?" I ask, and I can barely hear myself.

"We can just kiss."

I smile. "I think I want more."

Ryder's answer is simple, a hand gripping my groin. He squeezes, not too firm. And rubs. I groan.

His other hand rubs the navel of my neck, while his lips go beyond mine. He extends them across my cheek, to my ear. He bites. "I've always wanted to bite you," he growls.

I say nothing. Ryder's hands venture across skin, up my arms.

"You're so tense," he whispers. His hands are gone, and I feel their absence. He pulls down my zip, pushes his hand down my pants, gripping the skin beneath. His fingers are so... so close to... to...

A tremor rolls sharply across my body. Still, his fingers dance across skin, the hand not occupied with what's beneath my trousers. Those fingers slide into my hair while I tasted the heat of his tongue, of his shuddered breathing. I feel my own body, limp and useless. I'm not reciprocating. I slide my hand under his shirt, feeling his abdomen, the scales and ridges. Fingers tease at the line that leads beneath his own trousers. I meet Ryder's eyes.

His hand not occupied with massaging my thigh, reaches down and takes my hand, lifting it before his lips. His kisses the fingers. "You don't need to."

"I want to."

"Let me lead."

"You always do."

"In this..." The hand currently burning against my leg, finds its way up. I moan, back arching. "Do you like that?"

I nod, wordless.

"Is this too much?"

A slight shake of my head. Oh yes, how could I ever doubt? This boy... this man, is very much real.

The time for questions is over. Both hands pull down my underwear until I'm exposed. He pauses, waiting for me to freak and end this prematurely, but I don't. I feel exposed, my frame too bony. He's seeing my body and he's thinking things, feeling pity. Shit, this should stop. I was wrong, I—

"Ai," he whispers. "you're beautiful."

I know it's not true, but the gentleness in his voice, it's enough to settle my breathing. Nerves tingle up my arms, through my chest, but I keep playing what he said, "You're beautiful", the tenderness of it, over and over. I still feel so... weird, letting him see this much, go this far, but it's Ryder, and I trust him. Another pause, a heartbeat, and then he stops my doubts with a swift surety. Hands scrabble for something to hold onto. I twist at the sheets. Everything is a controlled rhythm, Ryder leading this dance, always taking his time, asking what feels right, how far we take this. Maybe not as far as he'd like, but enough. Yes, enough. I feel immeasurable pleasure, a climax approaching. Why did I wait this long?

***

Ryder shifts and smacks his lips a lot in his sleep. He also smiles, as if he can see me watching him. It's adorable. A tangle of legs, I can still feel the hair across his, the power in his thighs. I've shared in his warmth the entire night. To break this would be sacrilege.