Letting It Go. [New Glimpses of Faith - Journal]
Letting It Go.
(April 11, 2008)
It’s always the same when he stops. Sometimes I lose my normal cool and growl in frustration against whatever part of his body my mouth is against at the time. And I feel it. That trademark smirk of his against my skin as he merely licks my wound. And in that damn tender loving way he always does it. Only it’s not enough. He stopped too soon. Long before I wanted him to. Frustration isn’t a strong enough word. He knows I want his fangs to be back buried in my flesh, even as I’m sucking harder and biting down into the wound I made with my own teeth into his flesh. Flesh I have to keep probing with my tongue and teeth to keep the wound from closing.
And then it comes. That low lust and desire filled growl, with a hint of borderline hunger, and from his lips against my flesh, making a pleasurable shiver sweep slowly up my spine. Making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my scalp tingle while the rest of whatever skin of mine is exposed to the air goosebumps. I always smile. Maybe a small smile. Definitely a secret one. Well, one that used to be a secret. Because before he never used to know just how much his growl affected me. How deep I felt it. But he does now.
His growls. Always wake something up inside of me. Something I never knew was there until he came along. I can’t not react when he growls that way. Makes me shiver in pleasure every God damn time.
And I have to stop. I can’t not. Although I don’t want to. And I lift my head and look up into his eyes. And I know the look in mine is a desperate and pleading one. It always is at that moment. And he just looks back in my eyes and just says, ‘Let it go’. Sometimes he says my name as well, but not always. But I need to hear it, those three little words, because they’re the ones that make me give in and stop holding back the control I’ve been holding in place.
Thing is, he knows I’m doing it. Holding back the control. He always does. It’s like a game between us, each holding onto our control. Each trying to play the ‘game’ and break each other down. See who gives into that control first. We take turns giving in. More than often it’s me first, with whispered words of ‘Baby…please’, even though I hate myself for saying it because then his trademark smirk appears on those devilish lips of his. But then, a few more seconds later, and it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Just me and him as I’m falling over the edge. Making God damn sure I take him with me too.
©(S-O-R) S&W.