Sex by the fire. Who hasn't fantasized about that yet? It's everything for just about any couple, it means true compassion, it means love, it shows devotion. It requires a trust, a trust that Shawn and I have. He made the first move, I just followed along. We were watching lie with me, all was well, until the sex scene. He paused it to give me a smile telling me about how much it reminded him of our first time. I was a whimpering mess, every move he'd make I'd whimper or moan no matter what he was doing. His strong arms held onto my much weaker ones. We've both been asked to explain that feeling before but neither of us are capable.
"You like that?" The pleasure we both receive from each other no matter when it happens. He moves so gracefully, so effortlessly. He's never been rough with me before not even now our experiences are always sweet even if he moves fast. The roughest he's ever gotten was our first time having shower sex. He pinned me against the wall standing as close to me as possible. My legs wrapped around his waist and I grabbed everything I could to try and keep balance. Every thrust he made upwards would send me up briefly before I fell right back down where he was ready to repeat his cycle. He's so good at it. He knows what he's doing and he has such control.
His large hands grip my hips while he bring me up and down against him. "If I'm hurting you I'll stop," his hands move up and around my body making the pleasure ten times more. He's never once (since our getting together) deliberately hurt me and he's always beyond careful with me when he thinks he might even come close. He's the kindest man, sure he had his bad days but so do we all and his love makes up for it. He shows the best love and he is amazing at love. I've never understood the concept of doing something solely for the pleasure but with Shawn it makes sense. It's not just the pleasure, it's the sensation you get from being so close to someone. The compassion you can both share before it starts, and the attachment you feel after it's ended. Once you've both released you've seen each other at your worst which makes waking up next to them all the much sweeter.
When Shawn releases he either squeezes our headboard, the pillow or the bed itself. He used so much force it's almost hard to describe. He would never touch me that way, not even during our darkened past he wouldn't have. He just gains all of this strength and hunger. Desperation is attractive on him. He begs and he pleads and finally he gives up on what you say and just does what feels right to him. And his release is always right. He's never not wanted to release, and when I get tense his first instinct is to draw me to a release. Call it his boyish hormones but there's no doubt about it, he's in love with the feeling of his high. Who isn't? It's the mind numbing pleasure of the release of all of the tension you've built up.
And moans, moans and groans, whimpers and whines, they're all very important in the process of making love, for us at least. Moaning is the sign you're doing it right, it means he feels pleasure and it's thanks to you. If you're not giving him the pleasure he fires moans die down and fade. And Shawn's moans are probably one of the most attractive things about him. They're so masculine, a deep throaty moan that could draw you to a release in itself. "You're close now princess," he whispers kissing my neck. "I can feel it."
"You, you're twitching." I moan out gently. "You're gonna,"
-
I stare at myself in the mirror, bruises and love bites hickeys and whatever else he wanted there. Although I'm sure the bruises were unintentional.
I stare at each one, each of them bringing me to a different memory. Those on my hips from his powerful grasp while he raised and pushed me back down, those on my thighs from his release. Each of them a different and exciting point in time. "Did I hurt you badly?" He pushes the door open gently looking at me quite sheepishly for the confidence he has. I shake my head at him wrapping my arms around his waist. He grabs me by my hips and I wince a little from the sudden surge of pain. "I don't know what to say baby." He takes a step back. "I feel stupid." He looks to the floor.
"You're not stupid," I roll my eyes a little giving him a hug.
"Stop it, I don't wanna hurt you." He moves away again until I have him pined against the door. "This is ridiculous, you understand that right?"
"You made the bruises out of love and compassion," I kiss his lips sweetly.
"I made them out of my own sexual desire." He crosses his arms giving me a strange look.
"That sexual desire created a memory I will never forget." I kiss his neck. "Didn't you enjoy it?" I trace every tense muscle on his back while I bring him into a hug.
"Of corse I did, I spent like two hours with my girl doing something I could never dream of." He lifts me up. "I had the time of my life,"
"Then stop whining, believe me I was more then pleasures last night," I giggle as a shiver runs down my spine. "And plus the bruises are nothing compared to the claw marks I've left on you before."
"They help me know I'm doing my job," he giggles kissing my neck.
"And the bruises tell me I'm doing mine."
