Without Words To Say
Nov. 20th, 2001 08:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveSome folks were having a discussion about sexuality. This is their fault.
There was, he knew, a lot to be said for carpets. Thick, soft rugs.
Knee pads.
All things which he really had to start thinking about *before* he ended up on his knees at the edge of the bed, mouth open and hands unzipping and already hearing that first soft moan of anticipation from his lover. Had to start thinking of it before, because once he got this far, he couldn't bring himself to stop and re-arrange. He always considered it, for just a second - call it teasing, leave his lover leaning back on his elbows, fully dressed with only his naked erection jutting up out of his trousers.
But before he could push himself away, there would be that second little moan, and he'd have to give that cock one little lick, so he could hear it again. Then there'd be that moan again, and he'd have to lick again, and the moaning would get slightly drawn out... and, well, by that point he was lost.
Lost in his lover's arousal, lost in his lover's own loss of control, lost in the scent and sounds of this...this...whatever he could think to call it, afterwards. Intimacy, possession? Giving, taking, sharing, loving - there were probably a dozen words to explain how it felt, kneeling there, sucking his lover's cock.
But he never thought of them during it. Kneeling there, mouth lowering over the head of the now straining, slightly weeping cock, he was never able to think of anything in words. Just groans, and moans, and perhaps occasionally a softly whispered 'yes, there, that, oh god'. Words, but mostly just touches. His lover's hands gripping the blankets so tightly that he had to touch with his mouth, even as he was being touched. Mouths only. Oral sex. Two of his favorite words.
He just wished he could remember to put a rug down.
There was, he knew, a lot to be said for carpets. Thick, soft rugs.
Knee pads.
All things which he really had to start thinking about *before* he ended up on his knees at the edge of the bed, mouth open and hands unzipping and already hearing that first soft moan of anticipation from his lover. Had to start thinking of it before, because once he got this far, he couldn't bring himself to stop and re-arrange. He always considered it, for just a second - call it teasing, leave his lover leaning back on his elbows, fully dressed with only his naked erection jutting up out of his trousers.
But before he could push himself away, there would be that second little moan, and he'd have to give that cock one little lick, so he could hear it again. Then there'd be that moan again, and he'd have to lick again, and the moaning would get slightly drawn out... and, well, by that point he was lost.
Lost in his lover's arousal, lost in his lover's own loss of control, lost in the scent and sounds of this...this...whatever he could think to call it, afterwards. Intimacy, possession? Giving, taking, sharing, loving - there were probably a dozen words to explain how it felt, kneeling there, sucking his lover's cock.
But he never thought of them during it. Kneeling there, mouth lowering over the head of the now straining, slightly weeping cock, he was never able to think of anything in words. Just groans, and moans, and perhaps occasionally a softly whispered 'yes, there, that, oh god'. Words, but mostly just touches. His lover's hands gripping the blankets so tightly that he had to touch with his mouth, even as he was being touched. Mouths only. Oral sex. Two of his favorite words.
He just wished he could remember to put a rug down.