The first thrust is tentative. After what feels like an hour of foreplay, I crave full contact. With the instinctual, primal nature of sex ruling my body, my hips meet his next thrust. Ben's stifled groan burns a path from my ear into my sternum and thoughts leave my head. I find his neck to bend him closer for another kiss and don't have the chance to react to his last thrust. My lips catch his surprised sharp inhale and the growling exhale when he shudders inside me.
Silence.
Ben throws the used condom into the trash can and lies on his back next to me.
More silence.
He pulls the duvet from the foot of the bed, covers both of us, and squeezes my hand tight under the blanket.
The silence continues.
We did it. Does he feel different? I do. Nothing changed for me physically. It was not the best sex I've had in my life nor the best with Ben. But something is different. Sex and emotions have never gone together for me before. Sex is a fulfilling and powerful thing on its own. The desire, the being wanted, the pleasure of the release were all I've ever needed, wanted. Who got me there didn't matter as much.
My craving for Ben isn't only physical. The connection we built is new, but it took root. He seeped in through the multitude of cracks in my armor and my aloneness leaves me as a tear rolls down my cheek, then another, and one more.
"That bad?" Ben's even voice breaks the silence.
"That emotional."
"Explain." His bullshit radar isn't going to let me off the hook. How does he know me so well? I'm not brave enough to bare it all, but I want him to understand.
"It's as if your first time was more meaningful to me than my first time. It felt more honest and vulnerable than sex has been for me for a long time, if ever."
"But you didn't finish."
"That's not the point." I find myself squeezing his hand. "You've proven you're good at making me do it lots of ways. Selfishly, the tears were about the closeness. Do I sound like a lunatic?"
"You don't."
I roll to my side and look at him. I'm feeling his words wash over me. I reach over and place my hand on his chest. I want to treasure his words reverberating through my skin.
"We are close, Amélie. You are the closest person I've ever had."
Too much. I jerk my hand back. This can't be. "Not true. How about your parents, or Jaimie, Tall, Mike—you've been friends for ages. This is nothing more than a reaction to your first sexual connection. You'll see."
"I'm not so sure. This might be it for me." His words are low, meant only for me.
"Don't be ridiculous." I sit up and gather the grey sheet around me. "Confusing sex with love is a common rookie mistake." I look at the blinds on the window, the cello, the bedside table. "It's the beginning of your sex life, and you'll get plenty of practice."
"Then you were right, that's not the point."
"Huh?"
Ben sits up, leans over and plants a long lingering kiss on my lips.
"Are we going to do it again?"
That's a much easier question to answer. "Whenever you are ready."
Ben opens another condom and puts it on. "Let's hope I can last longer than a minute."
And he does.
It's still dark when I wake.
"Hey." Ben's voice isn't sleepy.
"Mmm." I close my eyes and cozy up to him.
"You said to ask."
"About what?"
"If I want more sex."
We've done it three times already. I'm sore. Different sore than from the Taekwondo workout, and I will not swear to never do it again but sex isn't on mind.
"I don't feel sexy."
"You look sexy." He brings his face to mine and kisses me. His lips linger and nip at the corner of my mouth, under my chin, down my throat. "You can sleep as long as you want afterward. I promise not to wake you up anymore." Ben's lips travel lower to my chest, and my skin wakes with his touch.
"Mmm." The sensations travel across my stomach, and my toes curl. His words held power over me, driving me to agree to more than I ever thought possible. The proof that his hands, lips, and body have as much if not more persuasiveness is delicious.
"Is this a yes?"
"Yes."
He melts me back into a pool of desire, scrambling my brain by first taking me to the edge of pleasure, and then pushing me over it.
***
Freezing, I open my eyes. The sheets wrapped around Ben's hips and fell onto the floor, leaving no more than a corner for me. I shift to the side and take my chance to observe Ben in his sleep. His measured breaths to the right don't change. Our previous mornings together, I awakened last, either wandering out into the living room hours after him or roused by Ben telling me we had to get going. In the sleepy hours of the morning, I witness how much softer his features are in the charcoal gray light of the room and take in the tranquil rises of his chest.
If I were an artist, I'd capture this image and keep it with me as long as I could. The fleeting nature of the moment nudges me to touch him to confirm it's the reality. I run my fingers over the ridges of Ben's stomach and the smooth planes of his chest to the broad shoulders and along the sinewy arm to meet his hand opening to accept mine, interlacing our fingers.
"Good morning, love." Ben's raspy voice complements the dreamy scene.
My heart halts. Love. I don't know what to say to him, and I don't know what to say to myself, either. Is the right thing to reciprocate, even if it feels treacherous? Or is it better to brush it off, pretend I didn't hear him? All answers are striking me as wrong.
Ben stretches his other arm over his head, yawns, and draws me into him, breathing in the smell of my hair.
"Are you okay with visiting my parents today? We can stay here if you want to."
Way to read a declaration of love into a simple term of endearment. Ben isn't behaving like he's expecting an answer or even an acknowledgment of what he said. Yet, no relief floods my veins. They remain full of the icy prickle of fear, making me grateful I've hidden my face in the crook of Ben's neck.
"Do we have time for a swim before going to visit them?"
"We have time for it all."