Silva and the Stars

9 | we should stop

Derrick recommended this show the last time we spoke and it's perfect for tonight. 

Rachel is laughing, her hazel eyes glittering in delight, her grin downright infectious. I want to claim her mouth every time she shoots a mischievous look my way.

We've taken to raising our eyebrows at each other whenever there is a sex scene on. And Rachel never fails to ask with a knowing smirk, "Are you taking pointers?"

I can only huff, unable to hide my own amused smile.

At the end of each episode, we look at each other and either Rachel or I ask, "Just one more?"

I can't resist giving in to temptation – the show is good – but having Rachel beside me, laughing, nudging my shoulder when a plot point comes up, arguing with my character predictions is the real clincher.

Now we're watching a young woman on the screen getting herself off, again and again, and again.

"Is it really like that?" I look toward Rachel for consensus.

"Yeah," she answers. "Discovering how to derive your own pleasure is fucking amazing." She flashes a cheeky grin my way. "And liberating."

"But all day?" My mouth goes dry, the image of Rachel getting herself off is in my head now.

I can imagine her black hair cascading around her. Her skin flushed, her breathing elevated, as she writhes on her bed. On the couch. On the floor.

"Hell yeah." She's grinning outright now.

I try to think boring thoughts, anything to distract me from the vivid scene splayed out in the forefront of my mind. What would Rachel look like coming? Would she scream, pant, or whimper in silent pleasure? Would she still, tremor or convulse? Would she close her eyes or search mine out?

Fuck. I added myself to the fantasy in my head.

I shift in the bed, trying to hide the evidence of my arousal, thankfully Rachel hasn't noticed. She's yawning, stretching out like a feline beside me, impressing her scent onto my sheets. I just know her frangipani and vanilla bean scent will taunt me later tonight.

"We should stop," she says, looking adorable snuggled under my covers.

"We should," I agree, but it's obvious by my tone that I'm not hooked on that idea.

"We need to sleep."

"We do."

She shifts on her side, her silky top revealing a tantalising glimpse of warm brown skin at her neck, her fluttering pulse visible to my hungry eyes.

"I should go." Her gaze drifts up to meet mine. But she still hasn't moved.

"You don't have to." It's a confession that I still want her with me. 

I know that she didn't want to be alone, and given our conversation at dinner, I can understand why. She had spent today where they had blown Louis' ashes.

Her eyes had misted over as she had recounted that day. 

Louis' younger brother had looked up at the sky, crying, as his father held him. "Is he up in the sky?" he had asked her.

"I didn't have it in me," she had gulped, retelling this part. "I turned away, only to hear his Dad answer that yes, he was up in the sky.

But he wasn't – he was in the ashes we just spread to the wind, part of the ground once more."

I have to give Rachel more credit because she's slipping out of my bed, facing the reality of going back to her room.

I wish I could ease the burden. Prove to her once and for all, that she's not alone.

"We can watch more tomorrow," I tell her. "Now that you've revealed my hidden TV, I don't think I'll be able to help myself from wanting to watch it in bed."

"Okay, that settles it," she says. "We'll continue this tomorrow."

I get up from bed to escort her out of my room. At the threshold of my room, I can't contain myself and engulf her in a hug. Thankfully, Rachel meets me halfway, softening in my arms, her arms wrapping around my waist, her head resting against my chest. I squeeze her against me, wanting it to last longer before I release her.

"I hope you have a good sleep," I tell her.

She smiles. "I'm so exhausted, I think I'll fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow."

Warmth spreads through me, an irrational male pride, that I managed to wear her out today. By watching a TV show for hours on end, suffice to say it's not the way I normally wear out women I'm incredibly attracted to.

"Sweet dreams Jon," she says, fighting a yawn. With that intimate smile still lingering on her lips, she turns and walks into her room across the hall. The door snicks shut behind her. 

Unlike her, there's one body part that could do with a bit of attention before I can get any sleep tonight. And I'm sure that my dreams will be the opposite of sweet - featuring her in criminal detail, doing wicked things only my imagination can conjure.

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a/n: Thanks for reading! I'd be so grateful for any feedback you have so feel free to vote and comment your thoughts. ♡