Momentary Reprieve

She, seemingly hesitantly at first, placed her hands on his chest; then as if spontaneously gaining courage, pressed firmly until he followed the momentum and laid back, looking up at her.

His body was tense beneath her, as this was an uncharacteristically physical gesture for her, but she ignored this response, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Put your hands in my hair, and pretend that you love me."

Gingerly, he rose a fraction to escape the utterly vulnerable position she had placed him in, both physically, and with her words. He sought her gaze and explored the depths he saw there; the pain, longing to be held, desperation, and something else he couldn't place. Before he had the chance, she averted her eyes, and he was desperate to bring it back. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, and felt her stiffen before relaxing- almost melting into him. Taking one hand, he weaved it into her hair, combing backwards through the strands, gently forcing her to look up at him once more.

They had somehow moved such that she was now straddling him, her thin dress splayed around them, covering what was beneath- a rather impressive erection, and her crotch which was unconsciously grinding against it, sans clothing, since she hadn't bothered to replace her panties after their swim.

Placing both hands in her hair now, seemingly reassured by whatever he saw in her eyes, he gently massaged and brought her closer to his lips, so that she was almost lying on top of him, trying purposefully to ignore the need pulsing through his veins (and other areas) to strip off his jeans and push into her very naked lower half. He stopped himself not because they were at a public beach, because that had never stopped them before, but because she wanted to feel loved.

Probably without the aid of his overeager cock.

So instead, he pressed his lips to hers, trying to convey every real thing he had felt for her since they met, trying to push it into her, to make her feel it, breathe it, live it. She had wanted artificial love from him, to 'pretend', but he couldn't do that. He couldn't love, either, which is why she had added the qualifier to her request, but he wasn't going to give her something false, no matter how much she believed he was right now. He was never duplicitous, even under instruction, and it was both a point of pride with him, and also one of the reasons she was with him. He would never lie to her, and nor she to him.

That's why they worked so well together. Occasionally they would misunderstand each other, become moody, or spiteful, or not know what they even wanted let alone be able to convey it to each other, but they never had any big problems, because they were always on the same page- or at least the same chapter (she was a fast reader).

Focussing entirely on her now, and the weight of her on his lap, that somehow erased any weight the world had placed on his shoulders, at least for the moment, he put all of his reverence and care for her into that kiss. He worshiped her with his hands in her hair, down her back, and with his lips and his tongue. He dreamt of the way she tasted and took the opportunity to indulge in her. He knew the moment would end, and didn't want to let go. Usually, she responded with fevered vigour to match his ardour, but tonight she seemed content to be held safely in his arms, and feel loved by someone, anyone. He was as attuned to her as she was to him, in such a short time, he never knew this kind of connection was possible for him.

She broke away from him, both out of breath, and her eyes held such warmth, and an unguarded softness that scarcely appeared, reserved for just him. That unguardedness from his kisses, that only he ever got to see, accompanied with the slight upward curving of her mouth, directed at him- they made him feel big, made him feel fuckin' ten feet tall.

Made him feel like this all had purpose, that maybe he was made for her. Pushing those thoughts aside, he gazed into her beautiful eyes, and scanned her mouth, now swollen from him and smiled himself. Her hands reached up from their dormant place, which unusually hadn't wandered while they were kissing- perhaps she had more on her mind than she was letting on- and she brought them to his face, brushed his hair from his forehead, and leaned down to press a gentle kiss there.

"Thank you," her voice was so soft, more diminutive than a whisper, floating away with the wind and almost overshadowed by the crashing waves- but he would hear her wherever she was.

He knew from experience there was no point to asking her why she was thanking him, nor was there a point to dismissing the thanks. Instead, he pulled her tighter into his chest, heart warming as she snuggled up into him and wrapped her arms around him in kind.

They lay there for the next couple of hours, content in each other's arms, with the comfort of another soul's presence salve to their burdens and worries. Eventually they got up- her legs were numb and she supposed his were, too. She looked up at him from her place on his chest, and wondered for the umpteenth time about what serendipity had brought her to him. How lucky she was, that she had at least one spot of brightness amidst all her dark, when others had not even that. She was feeling better now, and he was everything to do with that. She felt lighter and more calm, and he did not seem at all put out by the way their evening has transpired.

Seemingly out of their own volition as she sat up, her hands began undoing the uneven buttons of his shirt that he had haphazardly put back on after their traipse in the ocean, with a newfound mischievous glow in her eyes.

He didn't stop her- why would he?- but instead moved his arms behind his head, ceding control, and watching her with growing arousal and mild amusement.

Her hair was mussed wildly, not unlike the girl within, he thought endearingly, but now he allowed himself to gaze at her breasts and feed his state, like he hadn't wanted to do before while she was still in her head. Initially, he was worried and hesitant at how quickly her mood seemed to shift, but now he realised that she experienced happy in such short supply, not unlike him, and not to question it, because it would just as easily disappear, and he loved the look in her eyes when she was like this. Perhaps it was selfish, not to enquire about whether or not she was okay, but he couldn't bring himself to stop her when she pulled at him to lean up so she could rip his shirt off him, when her body was humming with an energy that instantly flipped a switch inside him, that brought his body to life. And he needed this, too- her wild unpredictability did nothing to tame the beast inside him, only stroked it, coaxing it from its shell.

The girl on top of him was grinding her hot hairless pussy into his jeans, and he wasn't going anywhere.

Both unbuckling his belt at the same time, he pushed his trousers down along with his underwear, just enough to free his cock, and lifted her dress so he could see her.