Sherlock

Chapter 3

Stirring, there is kissing to my cheek, chin, neck, ear. Soft, gentle, tender lip touches peppering my face and chest, completely covering me. My eyes flutter. I wonder whether I am asleep or awake. My eyes open slightly, but it is dark. I see nothing. I hear soft masculine breathing.

Inhaling deeply, I smell...warmth. Softness. Sex. Sweat. Very faintly, the fragrance of cologne...his cologne.

I remember him, then. How much I care for him, how I only want to be with him. My desire to never leave him. I beg silently for this dream to continue, to not wake. I close my eyes to return to this heaven. Beckoning sleep to return, this dream unfolds more vividly, as I feel his skin- its warmth, the softness, the nubby scruff rasping my cheek, my breasts, my nipples. I feel his palm on me, I smell his breath. My senses awaken as I respond to such sweet stimulation and enraptured, I catch this face and hold it to me, kissing his nose, eyelids, lips in return. Is this a sweet dream? I am unsure, but the tender onslaught continues, and I think perhaps I am in the best kind of dream. We embrace and pay reverence to this bliss with our lips, adoring one another.

         “I need you...” I whisper to him, still half in slumber. His warm, moist mouth has found mine then, and takes possession of it, eating the sweet words as quickly as I speak them. He pauses only for a wet second, placing his lips near my ear.

         “Oh...I need you,” he exhales, then devours my lips again. My senses are gone, as I accept each of his gifts, the kisses, the gentle strokes, the alluring quiet moans rumbling from deep within his chest. I am softly panting from the effort.

The increasing heat envelopes us and we are breathless from it. He looks at me, dark eyes sparkling, each lower eyelash its own entity. I think his brown eyes, his mouth, his lips, to be the most beautiful things I have ever seen. His hand is gentle and sweet as he softly strokes my cheek, innocently strokes my lips with his forefinger.

        “I want to memorize everything,” he whispers to me.

Without me knowing, he has sheathed himself, kissing me as he does so.

He is tender, gently bringing me to readiness, slowly stroking with taunting broad fingers. Effortlessly, he places me to him and enters deeply, his breath broken as he does so.

I am quiet, eyes closed; one hot tear rolls down my left cheek, and I feel him, hear him, smell him, taste him, memorizing in my own way. I will remember the tenderness, the softness of his touch, his words spoken like soft breezes into the shell of my hungry ear. His shy lips, touching mine as he rises to our rapture, their soft cry as he falls over the cliff. He has my hands entwined in his above my head, and so I am pulled along and fall with him, together, falling and falling. We fervently try to resuscitate as we kiss, giving life-saving breath to one another, seeking shelter from the reality dooming to intrude.

We wash one another with precious tears, baptizing each other in our sweet heaven.

Entwined, our emotions and breaths quiet, as sleep finds us once again to journey in this conjoined slumbered bliss, of Dreamers and Lovers.

The morning finds us discussing this imperative need for java. Downey decides to take to the streets for a quick coffee run, me along for the adventure. He is really hankering for Starbucks, but feels that may be too much of a risk; I am open for any of the black stuff.

I know his car will be here for him by 7:45, but we are awake much earlier, engrossed in this important sensory re-exploration of our bodies. Words whispered, promises made, important investigative work is done in those dark early morning hours under the soft, lofted covers, between those fragrant silken sheets. I lay for a while and watched him, listening to his breathing, then the snorging sound he made as he turned over and slept with his face in the pillow. I wanted to touch him, but he was working today, likely until late. I didn't want to keep him awake.