Knickers

In Perfect Clarity

[18+]

Studio apartments promise a complete lack of privacy that single renters are almost never made aware of.
I prefer peace and quiet over the alternative, so the solitude of living alone never struck me as loneliness. It was here that I got my best work and thinking done, so the chaos that entertained me always took place outside my home.
I am no longer alone, but there is no chaos. Dom and I had fallen asleep after a lasting conversation that dipped well into the early hours of the morning, skating the line between lighthearted chatting and soul crushing confessional. There was no judgment to be found between our words.
The sun is not up yet when Dom shuffles just enough between the sheets to wake me. He twists and rises, slumped over himself, and makes his way to my refrigerator. The interior light floods the room briefly, leaving a gleaming glow outlining his bare torso and legs, his boxers bunching around one thigh.
He shuts the door and turns, plunging us into darkness once more, and leans backward against my table as he twists the cap off a bottle of water and drinks. The moonlight from the window is just barely enough to illuminate him and his mostly exposed body. Despite my drowsiness I am wakeful enough to appreciate my view.
I sit up in bed, still watching him, and in the low light his eyes focus on me.
"Good morning," he says with a smile, his voice low and gravelly.
"Good morning," I echo, almost in a whisper. "What time is it?"
"I dunno, four?" He lowers his bottle and approaches the bed once more, dropping one knee to the blankets. "Sorry if I woke you."
"You look incredible," I tell him, ignoring his apology.
Another smile appears. "Thanks. I'd return the compliment but the fridge light blinded me."
"So you can't see me?" I ask, getting up onto my knees, closing the minimal distance between us.
A quizzical look crosses his face, and the next smile that comes is somewhere between mischievous and intrigued. "Not really."
I drag my index finger down his sternum, feeling the light, tickly hair along it. "But you can feel me."
"In perfect clarity."
My hand trails further down, taking a detour around his hips and waist. Then, I curl two digits beneath his elastic waistband and pull one side down toward his thigh.
To my surprise, he catches my wrist in a gentle grip.
"You're not going to steal them, are you?"
The joke catches me so off guard that my laugh is more of a bark.
"You caught me," I say, resisting more giggles.
"Fine," he says, and he helps the other side of his underwear down, then slides them all the way off.
His broad shoulders block the moonlight from my eyes, so the initial shock misses me. I scrape my nails up his bare thigh, toward his length, but before I can reach it he grabs me and kisses me hard. His weight comes down on top of me, pinned down beneath his hips, his lips slotted between mine and seeking more heat and enthusiasm that I have no trouble providing. His mouth is cold from his midnight drink, and the temperature difference adds a sensational contrast between us.
But, I decide, he is simply too beautiful to be lost to the darkness. So I twist us around, pressing Dom into the bed with a particularly firm kiss, and then skirt away from him when he dives for me once more.
Before he can complain I switch on the neon light, washing the room in pink. The Pink Boy smiles appreciatively, laying back against his hands and allowing me a second to admire him, splayed fully naked on my bed.
He's waiting expectantly for my return, but the sight of him stops me in place. His hair, as usual, is everywhere, framing a sultry but soft face. Below that, his slender neck, defined chest muscles, pointed ribs, and a smooth stomach. The further down I go, the weaker my knees get. My eyes coast along his pelvis, his halfway-there erection, two posed and muscular legs lain casually among my sheets.
I was right, he's perfect.
"People don't usually stare this long," he says, half jokingly.
"I can't help it," I tell him, fumbling with the bottom of my shirt and clumsily yanking it off, followed hastily by my shorts. "You're just. Perfect."
His erection twitches slightly, standing up a little straighter. "Marley."
"Dom," I return, and then we are together again, him sitting up to meet me as I straddle his lap.
His hands come to rest on my hips, squeezing with pleading fingers as his kiss grows more demanding. He breathes out most of a compliment about the way I look topless, but his words are lost in my mouth. His hands trickle upwards, cupping my chest, sending a jolt through me that is potent enough to crash our hips together.
I close my hands around his jaw, tilting his face toward the ceiling and biting down on the side of his neck. The same desire from earlier strikes me again, twice as hard, and soon I am leaving bruise after bruise. He reacts each time, his nails scraping down my back, low groans rumbling in his throat. He pleads for something incoherent, pressing us flush together so he can grind his hips against mine.
"Marley," he gasps breathlessly, followed by a long string of curse words.
Our lips come together once more, sloppy and dazed, and slowly I slip off his lap and sink into a kneel before him.
His gaze, as intense and purposeful as it is, never leaves my face. From the nightstand I reveal a wrapped condom and hold it up, pinched between my fingers, to which he nods with glassy approval. As I roll it on, he swipes his thumbs along my cheekbones, emanating a doughy softness that makes my lip quiver. I pretend not to notice for fear of getting too emotional.
Then, I lay my palms against his kneecaps and kiss his inner thigh, watching the realization cross his face as I lean forward, eye contact unwavering. His hands glide up the back of my neck, gathering up my hair into a bundle and holding it away from my face. Then, I take him into my mouth, satisfied with the consequent shudder of his legs.
His head tips backward, his hand tightening in my hair. I sense some effort to bite back the sounds that gather in his chest, rumbling beneath his sternum as I do my best to break his restraint. His legs quiver under my hands as he rolls up onto the balls of his feet, flexing against the back of my throat. A heavy breath escapes him as I continue my pace, his free hand switching between a fist in the sheets and the tenderest palm against my cheek.
His next exhale carries my name from his lips, his pelvis inching up toward my mouth, his fingers scraping against my scalp with every forward motion. A sharp, sudden inhale breaks my focus, and with soft, warm hands he cups my chin and pulls me up and forward, against his chest.
"Hey," he breathes. "I love you."
"As I love you," I tell him, straddling him one more.
He lifts his face toward mine, his lips popped slightly open in the lull of the moment. He leans forward to leave a trail of soft kisses along my mouth and chest, pausing to tease me with featherlight teeth and tongue. I grip at his shoulders as he does, pressing him closer as my core tightens with want.
We thread our hands together between us, holding tightly as we align, sinking partway together.
I pause as his heat registers, stopping in place and allowing a slow groan to seep from my lungs. His hands come down on my thighs, holding me still as he flexes upward with a single fluid thrust. Both of us gasp in reaction, the sudden warmth flooding our minds with blinding pleasure.
I cup his chin in one hand and sweep his hair back with the other, clearing his face so I can watch his every reaction. I move against him, establishing a slow, even pace that earns me a low whimper from the back of his throat. His eyes fall shut briefly, and he hitches up against me and furrows his brows.
"Don't tease me," he murmurs, inching forward to swipe his tongue across my lips.
"I like to watch you squirm."
A mischievous smile appears on his lips at this, and despite the greedy noises he makes he muffles them against my neck, biting and sucking on my skin until I feel bruises begin to rise. My fingers curl into his hair, my knuckles pressed tight against his scalp, earning a deep, barely-restrained growl from behind his teeth.
"Don't tease," he repeats, pulling against my grip to nip at my collar bone.
"Make me," I say.
He freezes in place, his incisors grazing the base of my neck.
"Sorry?" he says.
"You heard me," I say, pulling his head back to make eye contact.
A moment of crazed tension floats between us, his vibrant oceanic eyes sheathed in flames of want. He swallows thickly, his Adam's apple flowing rhythmically as he does.
"That's what you want?" he asks, his voice deep and heavy with sex.
I inch forward, close to his ear.
"Break the legs off my bed," I tell him.
There is no hesitation. We move fluidly together, swapping our position, and as I am pressed beneath his hips a new, desperate fire explodes in the base of my abdomen. The moment of reorientation is intense and foggy, the haze broken only when he starts to move against me with a rough and ragged rhythm.
The bed cries beneath us, creaking and scraping the floor, but my neighbors don't even cross my mind in the middle of the high. All I can do is watch him, feeling my own body climb and tighten, sucking short breaths that articulate my profanities and praise.
One hand wraps around the back of my knee, hiking my leg higher and curling it around his waist, and there we find the perfect synchronization that makes us both gasp. He grits his teeth, bracing his weight on his forearm, his necklaces caressing my sternum as he moves within me. The edges of his silhouette are flushed pink from the light behind him, and despite my lagging mind I know that I have never wanted anyone more.
His hand leaves my leg then, reaching down between us. His thumb grazes against me with featherlight delicacy, igniting the rest of my nerves white hot. It's intense enough to make me whine, a long, mewling sound that he meets with a few muttered curses. His thumb, after a short delay, follows the rhythm of his hips, flooding my every extremity with a tightness that leaves me dizzy.
"Fuck," I breathe, fighting to focus so I don't dissolve into the pleasure.
"Come for me, Marley."
The sound of his voice, breathy, gentle but desperate, curling around my name, knocks me over the edge. I toss my head back, allowing the incoherent cries to flow, gripping him around his upper back and letting myself be claimed by the release.
A long sigh of relief follows my orgasm, alongside a head-to-toe loosening. I'm present enough to register the sounds rising from his chest, the abrupt quickening of his hips pounding against mine. His jaw unclenches, and his golden voice carries a full, needy moan. He wraps one arm around my waist, pulling our stomachs together as he comes with several short, rough pulses. He muffles himself, clasping our mouths together in a sloppy kiss, allowing our breaths to mingle and uncoordinated lips to drag.
He exhales, deepening our kiss for a fleeting moment before he flops down on top of me, breathing hard into my ear.
"You okay?" I ask him.
"Holy fuck."
We allow a few silent minutes to pass, crushed together on top of the sheets, leaving absentminded kisses along exposed skin as we regain our bearings. Our breaths are cool as they coast over droplets of sweat, and after the moment of rest he pinches my chin, plants a firm kiss on my lips, and rolls onto his back.
He sits up, his wide shoulders shielding my eyes from the pink light, as he removes and ties off the condom. He swipes his hands through his hair, flattening it backward.
"Marley."
"Dom."
"Holy fuck."
"Well said."
He turns on the bed, forgoing the search for his underwear, and lies beside me again, slipping one arm around my neck and pulling me close against him.
"It's never been like that," I tell him. "Not even close, actually."
"Really?" he murmurs. "I'm sorry you've had so much bad sex."
I nod along with his words. "So am I."
He tucks my hair behind my ear, dragging his thumb down my cheek as he watches me with sentimental tenderness.
"I'm glad we waited," he says. "Fuck, that was intense."
"You're telling me. I think I saw Jesus."
He laughs his usual laugh, but adjusted to the quiet apartment. He tucks some more of my hair away and comments lightly about its disastrous state, and then lays a kiss on my forehead. We fall silent after this, quieted by the gentle touch of the other, and eventually we return to our sleep, more exhausted than before.