One Word, One Look, One Taste, One Touch
By: Rynne


1. One word.

Thatís all you want to hear. One word. You look at him anxiously, him with his hands clenched in his lap, his faces tilted downward so that his fringe falls into his eyes. He hasnít spoken since you told him, just sat there on his bed, not meeting your eyes. You can hear his ragged breathing, great shuddering gulps of air, and you wait for him to get himself under control. You wait patientlyóprobably more patiently than youíve ever waited beforeówatching him.

You know you love him. Youíve known for years, ever since you looked at him, and seemed to wake up, see the way his brown hair is more honey-coloured, how slender yet strong his hands are, how much gold is in his brown eyes, and how he always seemed to have a special smile just for you. You wanted something special just for him too. And you found it, the perfect gift, something that can make him laugh and smile to the end of his days. Something that he will love and treasure, just as you love and treasure him.

Of course, itís all dependant upon his acceptance. He has the power to light the flame inside you, or blow it out. Whichever he chooses will change your life irrevocably. And all you need is one little word.

He is sitting, still silent, lost in thought. You watch him, biting your lip. Then you blink, and heís no longer staring at his lap. No, now heís staring at you. Now those golden eyes are lit up with a flame of their own, and you gaze at him, mesmerised, and you canít look away. You donít want to look away. You want to stare into that molten gold forever, and even thatís not long enough. His lips start forming words. One word.

ďYes.Ē

2. One look

Thatís all it takes. One look. One look from him and your legs turn to jelly, your stomach flip-flops, and your breath hitches. One glance from him over your body and youíre on fire, unwilling an unable to put it out. He simply has to look at you with those impassioned eyes, and youíll do whatever he wants.

One look, and youíre a goner. You drown in a pool of gold flame, your eyes on his as he moves closer. Your eyes on his as his face tilts forward and you receive his kiss, the warmth spreading through the whole of your body. His hand moves into your hair, running through silky black strands as he brings you closer and your tongue dances with his. Heís heat, and you bask in it, want to bask in it forever. And thereís no reason why you shouldnít. You know he wants the same; his eyes say so. His eyes promise forever and beyond, and your own promise the same. One look, shared between the both of you, shares enough for one conversation between people not as intimately connected as you two are. As you two always will be.

One look sets you on fire, and one look quenches you again. One look, those eyes drifting hungrily over your body. And that one look freezes you in place, that one look sets you free. In one look, he promises you forever, and you return that one look, promising the same.

3. One taste

Thatís what you want. One taste. To run your tongue down his body, taking in the sweat and the salt. It is your favourite taste, because it is his. His hand thatís tangled in your hair, pressing you closer to him as your lips dance over his body, as your tongue teases his nipples, as your mouth finds his and you drink him in.

At one taste of his lips, youíre begging for more. One stroke of his tongue against your own, and you want to devour him, and keep his taste inside you for all eternity. You want the taste of the salt on his skin on your tongue, and as you kiss your way down his chest, you get it. You pull back just a bit, just long enough to savour it, before down you continue.

At one taste of his cock, you shiver with delight, and he echoes your movement. You swish your tongue up and down and around, wrapping your mouth around it and sucking, wanting more. And then you get more, the hot salty tang of his semen filling your mouth. You savour this too, and when your lips find his again, he savours you.

4. One touch

Thatís what you need. One touch. One touch of his skin against yours. One touch of his mouth against yours. One touch of his hands on your cock. One touch, and youíre in heaven. You eagerly run hands down where mouth had once been, and he shudders, then returns the gift. He perches above you now, his head close enough to your body that even his short hair brushes against it, and your senses heighten. One brush of soft fingers against your sensitive skin and you want more.

He gives you more. He runs his hands down your sides, up your chest and back, tangling in your hair as he brings you close again and his lips touch yours. You let your hands speak for you, gently cupping his cheek and brushing fingertips across his eyelashes. Your hands seek out warm skin, roving over the finely toned muscle of his arms, legs, chest, back. Watching the ripples play over his skin as he shifts positions. Stroking him wherever you can reach.

One touch of him inside you, and youíre gone. Simultaneous touches, his hands on your body, his lips on your neck, his cock inside you. One last touch, and youíre screaming your ecstasy as he yells his release. The touch of your bodies against each other as he slumps on top of you, and you hold each other closer.

One word, one look, one taste, one touch. Just enough to drive you insane and keep you wanting more. But you love him, and thatís why just one word, one look, one taste, and one touch are enough to drive you mad.



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