The morning sunlight streamed into the room and danced across the bed as the leaves on a nearby tree outside are tousled by a light breeze. As I laid in silence beneath the warmth of the blanket, my eyes fall with a heavy heart upon the empty side of his bed.
I shivered slightly, my skin hummed with energy, and images flashed behind my eyelids as I rolled - ever so slowly - into the open space he has left on the bed. Still warm. Everything about him lingered on me.
My eyes fluttered open, my nose buried deep into the blanket, into his pillow, though I deigned to be bold and peered at the open doorway. My brow settled into a contemplative line as I listened to his footfalls, so soft and precise. I wondered if he can hear me. I find myself wishing for his delicate touch again, his darkened gaze focused solely on me.
But clearly seeing my clothes neatly folded at the edge of the bed and his obvious absence, my departure is evident. I closed my eyes tight and curled into the diminishing warmth of his empty space for a moment. After a few seconds, I rolled onto my back, opening my eyes.
A last yearning glance at the empty space next to me, I climbed off the bed, my bare feet greeted by warm carpet as I padded toward my clothing. I tried not to linger on the fact that they smell so distinctly of him and the sentimentality in it all.
On my toes, my neck craned toward the open doorway, I can see the soft glow of the morning's rays making its presence known among his darkened home. I stepped forward, passing his bedroom doorway to the living area. I find him there, seated at his desk. He is dressed in black uniform, the darkened tone contrasting harshly against his pale skin.
He looked from his computer screen toward me, nodded once, acknowledging my presence courtly before returning his attention to the screen. I tried not to display how his aloof, detachment affected me. Instead I walked briskly to his door, my hand outstretched as I reached for the keypad for the doorway to permit me my humiliating exit.
But I paused, my fingers grazing the lock ever so slightly. I heard movement behind me. A hand snaked around my waist. Startled, I gasped, my back pressing into his chest.
"I apologize. I did not intend to frighten you," he spoke calmly, softly. His breath fluttering across my ear. I shivered.
"No, you just surprised me," I responded. I turned around slowly in his embrace, his arms encircled around my waist. I tilted my head backwards, my hair cascading behind me as my eyes searched his. "I was just leaving."
"You do not have to." His face remained composed, his eyes distant.
"I'm not expecting anything," I said, my eyes flickered in rapid movement as I tried to memorize his differential features.
"Forming any sort of sexual relationship with you is a dereliction to my dedication of another." He paused. "I am married."
"I know," I whispered softly. I raised my hand to his cheek, my fingers drifting delicately over his skin. "What do you want?"
There's another pause. His obsidian eyes focused entirely on me. "An ongoing, discreet, exclusive sexual relationship."
He raised two fingers, resting them on my temple before tracing them downward ever so softly toward my neck. "If you are amenable."
His touch, it is a rush of sensations, devoid of feeling, but that doesn't surprise me.
It seemed terribly intimate, how my fingers brushed his.
It was startling to realize the significance behind it. He had whispered it to me, his voice deep, hoarse as he moved languidly behind me, into me, bending me over. His thrusts penetrating deep within me. My fingers tangled with his.
Now, I made sure they were as far apart as possible. I grasped his shoulders tightly for balanced, my fingers digging into his skin. His fingers are hot on my thigh, the need and want alleviating between us as I moved my hips over his.
He is gazing up at me, his eyes dark with lust. I cherished the moment, seeing his restraint falter for a moment, seeing his efficient, compose control crumble. His fingers make slick, hard circles that cause me to rock harder against him. With each long, forceful thrust, he buried himself deeper, faster. I arched my back, my head tilted backwards, my eyes closed, basking the utter pleasure of it all. My fingers find themselves tangled in his hair, grasping it firmly as I feel his lips kissing my throat to my shoulders.
Soon, I cried out as I came, clinging to him, my eyes closed as he tightened his grip on me. He still moved inside me, riding out my third orgasm. Disoriented, I feel his fingers intertwined with mine. I gazed at him over my lowered eyelashes as I begin to move slowly over him again.
My palm is warm, his fingers brushing against mine, his grip tight. I make no move to pull away and neither does he. We are kissing.
I bring his fingers to my lips, kiss every one of them gently. His gaze is unrelenting, intense. I untangled my fingers from his, my hands resting over his chest. He rolled his hips, pounding into me and the utter movement sent me over the edge again as we're both gasping.
I can't help but smile at him when he traced my mouth with a finger, curious.
I thought I wanted to know the story that his eyes hid so well.
His body was one thing, to know what was beneath that uniform he always wore. To know what's behind his eyes is another.
He hid everything so well. Shielded his thoughts with frigid restrain. His eyes would adjust to this frozen feeling with brittle regard. His features pronounced into a nonchalant, passive expression. But there are moments when he rested his forehead against mine, his breath hot on my skin.
I felt something, and I know he did too, but it remained unnamed. Instead, I would ask him if he was okay because even though it was impossible to comprehend, I knew he was sad. He looked so sad.
He blinked once, twice. "I am ...fine." But I don't think even all the worlds oceans could fill his empty heart.