He always knew when it was time. When his hand had to sink into her silky blonde mane and massage her scalp. It always caught her attention, eliciting moans from her soft lips and having her look up at him. Emerald irises met icy purple ones and sent shivers down his spine.
She was gentle and warmer. Her hands were roaming all over his pale sensitive skin while her lips were smothering him with kisses. She became more feline and graceful to him as if that simple gesture was pushing some unknown buttons inside of her. She would suddenly turn into someone else, no, something else.
She became the goddess of love, his Aphrodite, his Kryptonite. She was sensuality made flesh and bones. Intoxicating, addictive. He would hold her hair tighter just to listen to her gasp and pay attention again to him. It was a subtle dance between those two. A dance for power and control. She, who always was in control and never allowed herself a moment of weakness, found relief in his strong manners.
He was the only one who could see her be vulnerable, the one she trusted enough to expose herself intimately. He felt honored that she chose him, among others, to help her cut loose, to help her just « feel ».
He knew when it was the moment to wrap his hand around her gracile neck. At that moment she gasped from both surprise and arousal. That moment her eyes would glow brighter and she would arch her back. She would put her hand on his while her other one would stroke his strong arm. Her eyes would stay open so she could see his face while he was making her surrender, and a smile would play on her lips while he would smash his pelvis against hers as hard as he could.
He knew when it was time to become passionate when he had to turn her into a puddle of nerves. She was nothing more than pleasure, screams, and freedom. Her nails would scratch his skin to blood, her moans would echo through the room and her legs would wrap around his waist. Her soft hair would cascade around her head while her green eyes would stare at him.
He would lose himself in the process, unable to tell what's what and who's who. Was he the one in charge? Was he the one she bent to her will? Weren't they one? One being? He couldn't tell. His grunts and growls were filling the room, the sheets were torn apart, and the bed itself was crackling until it would break. His heart was pounding hard and fast and his head went white. And it hit him like a truck, like a supernova explosion. It hit him hard and everything was blank. He was nothing.
They were nothing and everything.
They were the World.
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