Boy Next Door

...And Then There's This

[No smut but some steamy conversations...so...steamy conversations warning?]

His eyes stayed on hers as his fingers gently traced the delicate features of her face.

"This is my favorite part..." he whispered as his hand moved to her bare back, pulling her closer against his chest as they lay together in bed.

"What? When it's over?" she giggled.

"No—the afterglow," he clarified. "Just being naked with you...being this close. I don't know, it almost feels more intimate. You're also like...extra beautiful after sex..."

"Yeah? How?"

"You just look so happy and content. Plus you get this post-orgasm glow that makes you look absolutely radiant and your lips are red and a little swollen..." he sighed. "I don't know. I guess it's just the moments like these that remind me of how in love with you I am. You don't get these intimate moments afterwards when it's just hookups." She blushed and buried her face into the crook of his neck as she took in his scent.

"I'm so in love with you it's insane," she mumbled against his skin. "And I really love these moments with you too." His fingers brushed through her perfectly messy hair as he kissed the top of her head.

"So about those dirty poems..."

"You're not gonna let that go, huh?" Camila chuckled.

"I mean, I think it's only fair that I get to read them since I'm the one who inspired them." He had a good point. Camila rolled over and grabbed her notebook, opening it up to the poems in question and handing it over to him as she once again buried her face in the crook of his neck, this time out of embarrassment.

"They're a bit more...intense...than the first one..."

"Yeah?" he laughed. "Maybe I should read them out loud then..."

"That's not necessary—" Before Camila could debate it any further he was already reading out the first poem.

"There's passion, or there's nothing—and I want the type that drips down your back and soaks sheets. The kind that makes you lose sleep, and late for work in the morning. The type of passion I still feel between my legs the next day. Passion that begins in one room and ends on the floor of another. I'm talking about the kind that pins down wrists and demands eye contact. Passion that makes my body quiver and my legs tremble. I mean passion that's so seductive that I would never dream of looking for it from someone else. That's so uninhibited, intimate, and full of handfuls of hair, or hips, or their neck, or ankles, and makes you wish they had more hands. But they don't. And it's more than enough. And when you finish, you're finished. And you know—in between those short breaths and messy hair—there's passion, or there's nothing."

"This is mortifying," Camila mumbled in embarrassment as he finished reading the first poem.

"Why?" he asked. "Personally, I find the way you write about sex really incredible. I feel like my brain can just barely comprehend the kinds of feelings and moments you describe yet you're able to so eloquently and beautifully put it into words. It's amazing." He leaned over and kissed her head again, noticing how embarrassed she was by him reading her private thoughts, despite how intimate they had been with one another just minutes prior. "Can I read the other one?" She removed her face from his neck and looked up at him, her cheeks a bright pink.

"Sure," she said just above a whisper. He gave her another quick kiss before turning his attention to the other page.

"Relax, slow down. Have you ever just watched her undress? Let her. Take your time. Pick her up, sit her on your lap and run your hands down her spine. Grab her by the nape of her neck and kiss her once and for all. Kiss her thoroughly. This is as close as two bodies can get, figuratively and literally. It's not about making her scream, it's about making her forget how to breathe. Make these minutes and moments matter. Make her remember. It's not a race. Leave your mark on her body. Leave your mark on her heart and memory. Let her ride. Go deeper. Slower. Longer. Make heat where your bodies meet. There's sex, there's passion, there's love, and then there's this."

He finished reading the poem out loud and remained silent for a moment before letting out a quiet "woah". He re-read them both silently in his head before looking down at her to see she had once again hid her face against his skin.

"Look at me," he said quietly. She slowly moved her face to look at him as he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, letting the kiss linger briefly before pulling away. "Don't be embarrassed. These poems are beautiful. It's okay to write about what you feel, even if those feelings are sexual." Camila smiled softly and kissed his shoulder, snuggling herself closer against him. "Can I ask you something...personal?" Camila nodded. Shawn took a deep breath and closed the notebook before looking over at her. "Did you ever write poems like that...about him?"

"No," she answered simply.

"Was sex with him just...not good or something?" he asked. She sighed and thought about it for a second before responding.

"It's not that it was bad, per se...it was just...all I knew, I guess? I mean, before you the only experience I had was with him. Those experiences weren't horrible, but they pale in comparison to what it's like with you." Shawn's lips turned up into a soft smile as he kept his eyes trained on her.

"I feel like you're low-key kinda freaky, you just don't want to admit it," he stated as if it were fact.

"What?" she laughed.

"Oh please...you were so worked up in that dressing room."

"It had been a week and we only had one quickie!"

"Or was it the fact that you enjoyed knowing we could've gotten caught at any moment?" he countered. "I feel like you wanna be adventurous, you're just too embarrassed to tell me that." Camila huffed.

"So what? You're gonna start tying me up now or something?"

"Would you want that?" he asked with a devilish grin. Her cheeks turned a dark crimson as she looked away from him and up at the ceiling instead. "I'm not saying we have to start doing crazy, kinky shit...I'm just saying that if there are things you want to try, just ask me." Camila sighed before looking back at his face, a face that was exuding the same radiance he had mentioned seeing in hers.

"Right now I'd really just like a round two." Shawn chuckled and nodded.

"I can do that."

A/N: First poem is by Jack Raymond, modified slightly to be written from Camila's perspective. Second one is unknown, so if you find out please let me know so I can credit them properly!