Trivial Pursuits Ch. 15

"It's not that," she said through a voice thick with unshed tears.

Denny's brow drew down in concerned puzzlement. His hand cupped her cheek, turning her to him again. His thumb stroked the smooth, flush skin of her cheek. "Sweetheart, talk to me. What is it?" He waited patiently, resting on his forearms as his hands stroked and smoothed, soothing over all they could touch.

Alessa's breathing was rapid as she attempted to adjust to the feeling of his body inside hers. When she felt her courage return, she shook her head and opened her eyes. "I don't know," she confessed. "I just felt...embarrassed," she admitted, fresh, fat tears welling in her eyes. "I don't like looking at you," she stated miserably. "I don't like you inside me."

Her last statement sliced through his heart, a tangible pain tightening his chest. He proceeded cautiously. "What do you mean you don't like me inside? Because of the pain...or something else?"

She shook her head and closed her eyes again, unable to brave looking at him further. "No, I mean, yes, it's a little painful, but not bad. It's not the problem. And I do like the feel of you inside," she amended, her hands stroking up his arms that caged her on either side. "It's just weird. It feels too much like I don't know you."

"Like I'm a stranger," Denny murmured, recalling what she had said about the last guy she tried to have sex with, and the ensuing panic just before he succeeded.

"Yeah," she agreed despondently. She hated the feeling, because it wasn't based on reality, she realized. Denny wasn't a stranger to her. She knew him best of most people in the world, and if she was forced to admit it, he probably knew her better than anyone else. She turned her face and opened her eyes, looking up into his gently hurt face. "But that's not the truth," she said quietly. She thought silently a moment more, and as her body became adjusted to him, her mind did as well.

"It's just this feeling I've created over the years. Nothing lasts. One day you're in love, having sex. The next, passing each other on the street like strangers. Someone who once had rights to your body but no longer does...just a stranger created by time." She shook her head as the tears filled her eyes again. "I just can't give myself to a future stranger," she lamented.

Denny dipped his face close to kiss her tenderly. She started crying softly then. How could she tell him she didn't want to him to leave, that after her promised year she wanted him to keep her always? How could she confess she needed him to love her, to want her forever when she herself didn't know if she loved him?

When Denny pulled away, he was gently wiping the spilled tears once more. "Sweetheart," he cooed softly, "I want you to hear me. Hear me good. You are not just time that I'm killing."

Alessa opened her wet eyes, taking in his statement but remaining silent. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked tenderly, hoping against hope that he hadn't further damaged her fragile desire to connect with another.

In that moment, with his quiet question and the genuine concern in his eyes, she felt the thousand miles of separation dissolve into nothing but memory, feeling for the first time that she had always known Denny, that she always would, and no amount of time would change that. And then she was ready. She shook her head. "No, I don't want to stop. I need to keep going. I want to keep going," she confessed.

Denny witnessed the immediate melting of her body, the change of her expression. Her legs shifted against him, no longer left in limbo, but now eager to urge him on. She experimentally adjusted her pelvis, adjusted to the feel of his hard thickness lodged inside of her. Her right leg lifted and caught onto his hip, laying over his buttocks.

"Are you certain, Sweetheart? We don't have to rush anything," he pressed, wanting to feel her out for any lingering insecurities.

She bit her bottom lip, and, looking up into his eyes, nodded. "I'm okay," she whispered. "Please, don't stop," she begged softly, pulling him down to kiss her.

While he soothed her with a tender, sensual kiss, Denny adjusted his legs to lever himself off her, pulling himself out slowly before sinking back in. Alessa gave a guttural moan at the alien sensation. It was nothing she had felt before, the weight and dullness something like a slowly surfacing memory, but too far deep to be known and understood.

He watched her for signs of pain or discomfort, but her concentrating brow gave away nothing. Denny moved a hand to her breast, knowing he was going to have to build her pleasure back up after her emotionally draining confession. She gave a great and happy sigh as he began playing with her breast again, slow and introductory at first, before becoming more demanding and stimulating. Though it wasn't enough to move her toward orgasm, it was enough to reignite the fire that had been raging before.

He allowed her hands to roam over his shoulder and back, one time moaning when her nails scored across his scalp, cause him to shudder in pleasure. When he felt she was satisfactorily aroused, and he was ready to come himself, he switched his attention to her sex, finding the tender nub and began stroking it with his thumb. Her hips jumped in response to the electric pleasure.

Denny smiled against her mouth when she moaned. He pulled away from her to watch the responses he provoked from her with just the pad of his finger. Though his intent had been to take them over, he slowed his rhythm a minute so he could stroke her as he mated his body inside of her. Alessa's face was flushed a vibrant pink, and as he began to burn her with his masterful touch, she opened her eyes to watch him.

Again, the intimacy of his gaze was too much to stare into his eyes, and so she allowed her attention to be pulled down between their bodies where she could see his hand working magically on her sex as his shaft withdrew and then piston back in. It was better than porn, she decided. Better than reading an erotic story. Hell, better than writing it.

Alessa closed her eyes again as she felt the wave of decimating pleasure begin to build deep inside her. Her neck was arched as she felt every single inch of Denny's length slide in and out, frequently enough gliding over that deep hidden pleasure center as he simultaneously stroked her clit. Her hands were on his arms, which were to either side of her, holding her strong as she thrust her hips against him. And then, when she had felt a mile away, she was suddenly upon it, the great spasm, the little death, the explosion of the cosmos. Euphoric stars raining down in a divine shower.

As Alessa convulsed around him, her hands at his shoulders pulling him tightly into her, Denny raced towards his own finish, feeling triumphant at having brought her the proof she was meant for this. He reached back and hitched her leg higher, his thrusts becoming more violent as he stroked through her rippling, orgasming channel. And then, just as suddenly as she had found it, Denny broke through, coming ferociously inside of her with a chain of lusty groans.

Vaguely, Alessa was aware of the sexy, feral sounds Denny was making above her, as well as the strange, filling pressure as he came inside her. She was breathing heavily, but she was also euphoric, and none of the usual negative emotions, like the guilt or the shame that were frequently triggered when she masturbated, seemed to be coming.

She floated freely in her bliss.

Alessa smiled, breathing deep and snuggling closer to him, even as she felt him shift them around, moving them up in the bed and under the covers. When she next opened her eyes, Denny had managed to turn off the lights and was laying on his back with her draped over his chest, her head cradled in the join of his neck.

Her dreamy eyes watched as Denny played with her fingers, slipping between each one with one of his own, stroking and twisting until he settled with simply holding her hand. Their twined hands rested on his chest, and as she closed her eyes, drifting toward sleep, she felt him kiss her forehead and whisper, "You're perfect, Sweetheart."