Wall Between Us

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly. "It must feel strange, with the fever."

"Yeah," she answered breathlessly. "I'm alright. Better than alright."

He kissed her again and started moving, and she answered his kiss and his movement. He thought they went together really well, there was an easy compatibility in the way their bodies met. She fit him like a glove, hot and insanely arousing glove, and he struggled to keep the rhythm slow and not just ram it in her. He longed to see her breasts and kiss them, but there was no way in hell he'd stop now to undress her. She tugged on the hem of his t-shirt, impatiently, and pulled it over his head. Her slim, soft hands caressed his chest and shoulders.

She tensed under him. His focus was entirely on them, how they moved together. The house could've collapsed and he wouldn't have noticed. He accelerated and she followed him. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, and he grunted and pressed his face to her hair. He went a little faster, hoping it was good for her, but unable to hold back anymore. He was getting there, getting closer, getting harder, he could feel his testicles tightening. He struggled to keep his movement going for a little while still, then another little while. He stopped thinking, he was all feeling. His hard cock moved inside her. Her amazing hot wet pressure answered him.

She moaned when he pushed deep. It was similar to what she'd let out in her sleep, and he pushed deep again, and she did it again. He wanted to keep her sounding like that, and he shortened his thrusts, keeping deep and poking at her depths, momentarily so distracted his imminent orgasm stalled and didn't overtake him just yet. She whimpered, and he felt her fingernails dig into his back.

"Snälla, lite mera, lite längre," she panted.

He kept it up and now his orgasm was rushing up on him again. He gritted his teeth and felt his whole body tense. Any second now.

She let out a muffled shriek, and her pussy clamped down on him so hard it almost scared him. As it was, he just lost it, she pushed him over the edge and he came harder than he ever remembered coming. His hips jerked against hers, he moaned low and continuously, and pumped load after load of spunk deep inside her. So deep, and he wanted deeper. She convulsed around him, slower than his spasms but with amazing force.

He fell on her slowly, taking care to land a little to her left not to put his whole weight on her. He kept inside her, he never wanted to leave. She held him, her arms around his shoulders, her breathing on his hair getting more regular as she calmed down.

She turned a little and he slipped out of her. He let out a small sound of disappointment, then felt acutely embarrassed about it. All the complexity of human relations was catching up on him again, after this brief moment of letting it all go, letting their bodies do the talking. He wondered how it had been for her. It was a little hurried, wasn't it? But she came, so maybe it wasn't that bad? She had said something, there towards the end.

"What was it you said just there?" he asked quietly.

"Hmh?" she said and kissed his forehead. It felt really good. Tender.

"You said something in Swedish a moment ago."

"I have no idea," she said. "Kinda lost it there, it felt so good."

His heart jumped. "So you liked it?"

She snorted. "That doesn't really cover it but yes, I liked it. You?"

He let out a sound that was part relief, part the impossibility of putting his feelings into words. She was waiting, she wanted him to verbalize it.

"I loved it," he said sincerely. He wondered if it was too strong, but hell, he couldn't help it, he really did love it with her.

"Yeah, that's it," she said quietly. "I loved it, too."

She moved and he moved with her. He ended up on his back and she snuggled against him. He held her close, feelings churning inside him. He still had his pants around his legs and now he kicked them away, a little embarrassed he had been in such a hurry he hadn't even undressed properly.

She was soft against him, soft and warm and sweaty. He stroked her hair, letting it slide between his fingers, again and again.

"Do you need to go to work?" she asked.

He glanced at the clock. It was twenty to seven. It was Friday, so he did indeed have to go to work, he even had a video meeting at nine. He really didn't want to get up, he felt like it would break the spell, and he'd never get this close to her again.

"I don't want to," he said moodily, feeling like a sullen kid.

"Are you working from home today?"

"Yeah."

"There's only going to be a wall between us."

"I don't want to have a wall between us."

He was feeling more whiny and ridiculous by the second. He needed to get a grip. They hadn't really met until two days ago, they didn't know each other, they'd just had sex once. He had no right to want anything from her, but he did, he furiously and intensely wanted to... wanted to... wanted. He didn't know what, but he wanted.

He sighed and pulled her closer.

"Listen, Johanna," he said. "Can I make you breakfast?"

"Sure you can," she answered, surprised. He kissed her for a few moments and got out of bed. He was still naked but he didn't care, he padded downstairs and loaded the coffee maker.

Musse came to swirl at his feet when he stepped into the kitchen.

"Well hello there," he said. "What do you want? It's not your feeding time."

He started checking the fridge for breakfast. Musse kept a close eye on him.

"Oh, I know," he said. "She gives you something, doesn't she? Hmm."

He opened a tub of yogurt and held the top to Musse. It licked the lid clean, eyeing him appreciatively. He smiled. He liked cats, and maybe he would've had one, if he wasn't so alone. He didn't want pets, because he had no one to ask to take care of them if he wasn't able, for traveling or being sick, so it was easier to just not have them.

He went back upstairs with coffee and the yogurt. Johanna was lying in bed, watching him. For some reason he didn't become self-conscious, even though he was naked in front of her.

"How do you want your coffee?" he asked.

"Black."

He puffed up the pillow and got her to an upright enough position that she could eat in bed. Then he went back down to get his own coffee.

He sat at the edge of the bed and watched her eat. She was so beautiful, delicate and fair. Her nightgown was pale pink, and it flowed on her body like a... like something beautiful.

He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay for the rest of his life. He didn't know what to say to her.

She looked at him warily.

"I hope I didn't upset you," she said. "I didn't mean to."

"Well, you kinda did. It was... intense. But in a good way, don't worry."

He looked at her and had a stroke of inspiration.

"Can I wash you? Before I go?"

"What?" she asked, puzzled.

"I'll show you. Just tell me no if you don't like it, okay?"

He went to get a bowl of warm water and a small towel, like he'd had that first night. She was finished with her breakfast, and now she just laid back on the pillow and watched him.

He leaned closer, and wiped her sweaty brow with the damp towel, as gently as he could. He cleaned her face, her neck, behind her ears. She sat up, and in one fluid movement she lifted the nightgown over her head before she laid back down.

He felt his breath catch in his throat, and fought the urge to just ogle her breasts. Instead he wiped her shoulders, her collarbones, and along the length of her arms that was closer to him. He could feel her eyes upon him and for some reason he felt like crying.

He blinked a few times, to force the tears back, and cleaned her other arm. He washed her armpits, using enough force to not tickle, and after that, there was no avoiding it: he looked at her breasts.

They were perfect. They were round and pale, and her nipples were small and rosy and hard. He washed them gently, trying not to linger, and moved down on her flanks and tummy.

He stared at her, mesmerized. He liked her breasts, and well, all of her, but for some reason her lower abdomen was what got him. It swelled gently upward from her mons, forming a perfect little hill of pale, soft, smooth skin. He let out a small sound and bent down to kiss it, then forced himself to sit back up and wipe it with the towel.

He wiped her hips, and then down one leg and up the other. It was an almost pious moment: he concentrated on her, and she concentrated on watching him. Neither of them said anything.

He touched her groin carefully. Her pubic hair was indeed the same beautiful golden blond hue as her hair, albeit a shade darker. He took time to wash the crooks between her hip and thighs. He wiped her labia gently, trying not to be sexual, but she shivered anyway.

"Sorry," he said. "And sorry about your sheets."

He stared, horrified, at the puddle they had managed to produce together. Then a thought emerged, and he lifted his eyes to hers.

"Are you on the pill?" he asked.

"Now you ask? Isn't it a little late?" she asked, but from her smile he guessed she was.

"Yeah. Sorry, you kind of surprised me there. Didn't have that much time to think."

They smiled at each other.

"Okay, roll over, I'll change the water," he said and went to the bathroom. He changed the towel as well.

She was lying on her stomach when he got back. He sat beside her and grimaced at the wet spot. She had rolled off it and now he got a look of the entirety of it. It was enormous and looked somehow really sinful to him.

He washed the back of her body as carefully as the front. She had the most wonderful dimples above her perfect round buttocks. He would've wanted to kiss them, and after some consideration, he did. She shuddered but didn't object.

"Okay, all done," he said. "Are you alright? Can I help you with something?"

She rolled over to her side to look at him.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "That was really nice."

He smiled coyly.

"I'll be just behind the wall, so call me if you need anything, okay?" he said.

He got up and looked at her. He really didn't want to leave.

"Can I bring you lunch later?" he asked bashfully. She nodded. He lingered for a few moments, but couldn't come up with anything more, and so he left.

—#—#—#—#—#—

Again it was difficult to concentrate on work. Samuel had to chat to his coworker to ask what had just been said in the video meeting they were attending, when he realized he had absolutely no idea. All he could think of was Johanna, and their morning together. He could feel her, like she was emitting some strange energy that he could sense through the wall separating their apartments.

He knew one of his coworkers, Maja, was half Swedish. He wrestled with himself for a while but eventually he chatted with her and asked if she would teach him to say something in Swedish. She called him, instead of replying to his chat.

"So, what do you want to say to her?" she asked.

"Her?" he squirmed.

"Well, what else would encourage you to talk in tongues beside love?" she asked, amused, and he realized he was really transparent.

"Well, let me think," he said.

"At least you should make the effort to learn to say her name right," Maja said. "I guess even that will take you anywhere. So what is her name?"

"Johanna," he said, and then they went back and forth for what seemed like an eternity, until Maja was pleased with his pronunciation.

"Good, yes, now just remembered that," she said. "Now, what else? 'I love you'?"

"Well it's a bit much, I think," he said. "We just met after all. But... well..."

"But you'd want to be with her? Date her?"

"Well, yes. Yes I would. So maybe that."

" 'Vill du dejta mig?' "

"Um, come again?"

It took them another few minutes to get him to remember the words and say them correctly. He thanked Maja and ended the call. He felt a little lightheaded, and nervous, but he also knew he needed to pursue this now.

He texted Johanna to ask if she still wanted lunch, and if she would eat Chinese takeaway. She answered yes on both accounts. He walked to the shopping center and fetched the food, and on his way back, he passed a florist and stepped in. He looked at various Valentine's Day bouquets, each one more pompous than the last, and agonized. He didn't want to be too imposing, and eventually he settled for a single red rose.

He arrived at her door and took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. He felt like his cheeks were as red as the flower, but there was no helping it. He was shy, and he was nervous, and this was important. He prayed he'd remember his sentence, and the proper pronunciation of her name.

She was surprised by the rose, and seemed a little flustered, but she took it in her hand.

"Johanna?" he said, and her eyes shot up at him. She definitely noticed how he pronounced her name. "Vill du dejta mig?"

She stared at him. "Vad sade du?" she said feebly.

"Sorry, that's the limit of my Swedish," he said apologetically.

He was standing one step lower than he was, so their eyes were almost level. She got tears in her eyes, and then she hugged him, tightly.

"Yes, yes I'll date you."

He held the takeaway with one hand and her with the other, and was happier than he ever remembered being.

"Good," he said quietly. "I was beginning to worry I'd been misled, and I just said something incredibly rude to you."

She giggled. Their hug was interrupted by Musse, running past their feet, seizing the opportunity now that the door was left open for a moment too long. He gave her the bag of food and spent the next ten minutes chasing the cat around the yard. He did catch it eventually, and when he carried it back towards her door it just settled into his arms and looked up at him with its yellow eyes, looking innocent and inconspicuous.

"You little bugger," he whispered to it.