Skin to Skin
Tangled legs over wrinkled sheets.
The gentle beat of his heart is what wakes me before him. Odin's chest rises evenly, quietly in the predawn's gentle nudging of the night away. I think this is one of the few times I am awake before him.
My eyes still hold a burn to them from last night's honest moment with Odin - my fears of not belonging here anymore cried out low and stuttering into his chest. He held me the entire time as I exhaled out the tearful confessions.
"It's not fair..."
That was the line that kept repeating itself over and over again to him. He had no reply; there was something that settled deep within his marrow. I felt the shift of his emotions while mine twisted and churned within as I just heaved everything out for him to hear. I even told him that my writing looks different, the papers, catalogs of plants, the dried herbs seemed unimportant anymore.
"Who am I?"
Odin's response to that was to say, "my half."
The weight of my diaphragm eased with those words, to the point I fell asleep to his fingers running through my hair.
Now I'm awake, pressed against the side of him, he's warm, it's comfortable as if we were always meant to sleep this way.
The tip of my finger starts to trace a swirling symbol that is etched into his skin, more a scar than a tattoo. The black ink is embedded in the most profound layers of his flesh.
Odin's breath comes out deeper than before, but he still looks to hold the face of sleep.
A rush of energy from me as my eyes are drawn down, the palm of my hand follows my vision. Feeling his sternum, the hard bone sits between the rise of his chest. The musculature of him stretches his fibers taunt and lean, it's impossible to hold off the burning pulse underneath my skin.
Odin's chest rises, and I chance a peek at his face. He seems relaxed, while I nudge closer to his side.
No space between us.
Odin's brows furrow before relaxing.
Pressing my nose against the roundness of his shoulder, the scent of him is the deepness of soil that holds my lungs hostage. The heat of this is traveling through the layering of my skin to start sinking in deeper to hold itself just above my mound.
A tingling feeling spreading.
Urges
Needs
Wants
Fingertips drag themselves down his rib line, feeling the delicate flesh that sits between bones. Light touches run the length of his side.
Odin shifts... nervous energy spreads as my fingers lightly move downward past those ribs, to his tight torso feeling the way his abdominal muscles tense before relaxing on the next inhaled breath.
The canvas of skin shows off every conquest, it must have been difficult to accomplish some of these feats of savagery without any help.
I hold my touch to him, not breaking the contact with, skin against skin. I can feel the way my breath is coming out faster, the beat of my heart is rising. Odin's rhythm hasn't changed. At times, a soft sigh comes out from between lips that I want to taste.
The heat of him penetrates the palm of my open hand.
An internal tremor holds and squeezes the very base of my sex. A rush of heat blooms from within, the musculature of who I am starts to shake with how he feels underneath my touch.
