Nocturne in E-Flat Major, Op. 9, No. 2

The kiss commenced with a bashful touch, a gentle interchange of tacit oaths and unveiled hopes. His hand came to rest against her cheek as she intensified their bond by slipping her tongue into his mouth, pulling a moan from his chest.

Lowering themselves upon the plush hearth rug, their bodies entwined in an embrace, their passion ignited further, fuelled by years spent yearning for such intimacy. The space that had been a field of conflict transformed into a sanctuary of peace as their souls sought to connect on every conceivable plane.

She explored his mouth with eagerness. His hands traced the contours of her body under her silk slip, each caress sending thrilling sensations coursing through her, yet, a question—The Question—lingered in her mind.

She extricated herself slightly from his embrace. He pulled his hands away and she took them in her own to prevent him from moving too far.

“Did… did he tell you…” She pressed her forehead to his chest, overcome by shame and dread.

He cupped her face, his thumb tracing the soft apple of her cheek, and lifted it to meet his gaze. Intense, penetrating the very depths of her soul, it seemed to make the very air around her vibrate.

“He told me.”

Her heart sank. She opened her mouth to respond—to explain, to confess—he silenced all with his. In that loving gesture he poured forth an acceptance that words could never convey.

He cared not, her heart exulted as she returned his kiss with jubilation, clasping him in her arms and drawing him closer than ever. Each meeting of their lips affirming the understanding they now shared.

She drew back with a gasp, her breath and pulse ragged and racing, a potent blend of desire and apprehension. His touch upon her held such profound reverence that her spine trembled with the weight of his adoration.

“We cannot… not yet… but…” whispered she, the words barely escaping through the supplication clamouring within.

“All the time in the world is ours,” whispered he, his breath warm against her cheek. His lips sought hers once more; his hands rested upon her hips as an unspoken acknowledgment of the rising lust that simmered between them.

The earnest assurance awakened a hunger that deepened with every tender press of his lips along her collarbone.

“Could you…?” Her voice a zephyr laden with an intimate proposition. She took his hand and traced a slow, tantalising path down her thigh with his fingertips, the caress light yet sufficient to ignite a smouldering flame within her being. Her chemise rode up beneath his touch, the cool night air caressing her skin.

He could only nod, his face nestled in her wavy hair as he breathed in the sweet scent of vanilla—a tiny part of him still marvelling at how she had managed to find such an aroma.

Her legs parted slightly and she let go, an unspoken invitation for him to continue. Their lips united once again while his hand ventured further, reaching the apex of her thighs.

With a measure of uncertainty, he carefully explored the soft hair and sensitive lips, discovering a small bud. He pressed it with gentle curiosity, desiring to learn its effect. A visible surge of pleasure writhed through her upon the contact.

Encouraged by her response, he began flicking small circles around and across its supple firmness. Her legs straightened, and a gasp escaped into his mouth. His movements were subtle, hesitant; her hips moved in response, assisting him in creating a sensual harmony that propelled her towards ecstasy.

His lips meandered along her neck, to her ear and cheek, each one augmenting the delight that coursed within her. With his growing confidence came more assertive movements, almost daring in his pursuit of drawing pleasure from her depths.

He observed intently for non-verbal cues—the manner in which she bit down upon her bottom lip when something felt particularly pleasurable, or how she would lean closer towards him when desiring greater pressure to be applied.

Dextrous fingers danced against her with increasing fervour. She bit back moans, clutching onto him tighter than ever. His hand was a steadfast anchor pressing against her as she rolled her hips.

A deluge of escalating sensations flooded through her until nothing remained but bliss coursing through her veins. She moaned softly in the back of her throat and went rigid for a moment before shuddering into him.

Clutching at him desperately, her nails dug into his shoulders; uncertain he moved his hand, she grasped it and pressed it against her with both of hers. She moaned euphorically into his mouth, lifted her hips once more, then relaxed into him.

Feeling himself pressed firmly against her, mild panic set in. Careful to maintain their connection, he adjusted his position to relieve the pressure and held her in an attentive embrace as she gradually descended back to reality.

Beneath his shirt, she discerned the rhythmic play of his muscles shifting subtly in response to her touch. The weight that had been against her thigh was now disappointingly absent, yet its warmth lingered on her skin.

Her hand glided over his chest, tracing the contours of his abdomen before pausing at the central buttons atop the fall of his trousers.

Perceiving her intent yet noting her pause, he undid them and pulled down the flap for her. She reached down her delicate touch caused him to become even more solid. As he expanded in her grasp, she tightened her grip; his hips jerked as a moan escaped his lips.

She began slowly, increasing her speed as he encouraged her with low murmurs. He twitched once in mild discomfort and guided her hand with a slight adjustment, accompanied by an understanding kiss.

He pressed his forehead to hers, and a single bead of sweat travelled from her brow to his. The sound of his ragged breaths filled the room as her movements quickened.

Mounting pressure built within his loins until he let go and reached climax, uttering her name with a cry muffled against her neck, leaving a damp mark upon her chemise. Her hand relaxed but persisted, now soothing rather than rousing; guiding him back towards the realm of reality.

His heart pounding through her palm, she watched him with half-lidded eyes full of satisfaction and an undeniable spark of triumph. The room was still enveloped by that intoxicating scent–vanilla and rose garden mingling together into something uniquely them.

With a sigh escaping his lips, he relaxed back onto the rug, pulling her along so she ended up sprawled against his him. She released him and he uttered one more groan as she wrapped her arms around his solid frame, welcoming the weight of his body against hers.

He was a wall of warmth and comfort, making her feel secure and cherished. Their breathing fell into a steady and gentle rhythm as they lay together on the rug. The energy of their shared passion ebbed away to the sweet pull of fatigue, drawing them into peaceful slumber within each other’s embrace.