He crouched beneath me, lifting my legs one at a time to cover each with kisses, and I could only watch with awe. There were no words, only breathy moans when he discovered a new sensitive spot - behind my knee - the inside of my legs - the crease of my upper thigh.
And when he stood back to his full height, tilting his face down to look at me as he worked conditioner through my hair, I could have cried at the acute understanding and knowing reflected at me. The unmistakable connection which can only be sought through mutual trust and respect.
I’d craved touch my entire life, seeking it through short, fast releases thinking that was what I needed to recharge. But I was wrong. I’d felt empty for so long, a battery on 70% charge for too long, because I’d never been touched as though I belonged to someone, as though they needed me as much as I needed them.
Until now.
Until Corbin.
Reaching down between us, I gripped him in my palm, squeezing firmly as we both hissed at the contact. He was thick and warm, and when he pulsed in my grip I shuddered with delight. I stroked his full length slowly, tracing the engorged tip with my thumb, wondering what it would be like to trace my tongue where my finger currently was.
His lips were on mine before I had the chance to take another breath and in that moment, it was as though the shower imploded. The tenderness of washing was gone, replaced by lust, desire and the need to be in and on each other.
I stroked him faster, gripping the back of his neck and holding him to me. Our mouths fought to say everything we couldn’t, involuntary murmurings melting from deep within his chest as his hands wandered a path down my body. Pausing to squeeze my aching breast, feel my taut nipples, before lowering painfully slowly, all the while I continued to pump him in my hand.
He squeezed my hips bones as he ground into my palm, his mouth still on mine in a passionate all-encompassing kiss.
“I need-” he panted against me, as his fingers danced just above where I wanted him most. Where I’d been hoping he would find himself for what felt like hours, and I nodded approvingly, the signal he was waiting for as he slid a finger through my wet core.
“Oh, God.” My moan was loud, and a guttural groan of his own followed. The amalgamation of our bodies happened quickly, as if we were no longer in control, pure need fusing us to one another as he again found my mouth.
I gripped him in my hand, rocking against the feel of him tracing, toying, experimenting, continuing when he made me rock, mewl and practically fucking purr. He was the perfect mix of rough and gentle and a fast learner, entering me with a finger, while using his palm to maintain the force against my clit.
The pressure I wanted. Needed.Craved.
I was awake before, but with him sliding through my grip and his fingers inside me, I was feral and my inability to hold my thoughts to myself came out in a voracious spiral of haphazard words.
“More. Need. God. More. You.”
He hummed his approval, his hand gripping my neck and bringing my mouth back to his, pressing a second finger inside me as my legs spread of their own accord.
Oh, gosh. I was close. I was going to come all over his hand. My body tightened around his fingers, holding him within as if he belonged.
“You, you, you…” he vocalised with a growl and the fuse took light. My body pulsed with desire and when he moved his hand down my throat and flicked his thumb across my nipple, my head fell back, the speed of my hand on his thick cock increasing. A slow sprinkling of release started in my core, my hips thrusting in time with my hand as his groans of pleasure increased until I shattered with a choked cry of his name. Shrapnel flew through my stomach as an explosion of light shot through the air. I splintered into one thousand different pieces as his pleasure shot into my hand and he shook with his own heat. The joy of bringing him such a release as I too exploded, only now becoming clear.
We leant against each other, our hands still seeking one another, our breathing slowly returning to normal. The water was still pouring around as we both sat with our thoughts.
That was nothing I ever expected and everything I never realised I wanted. And the realisation that it was with my longest friend was astounding and unexpected.
My constant. My consistent. My Corbin.
This was new, a definitive shift from what had only ever been friendship, but the silent yearning was nothing new for us. There had been an undercurrent to our friendship for as long as I knew what a boyfriend really was. A subtle flirtation, a mutual attraction and pull which kept us together, not just because of our parents or how we met, but because we wanted it. We worked for it because it never felt like work. A friendship founded on an unshakeable need for each other regardless of how far apart we always were. We’d been brought together but we chose to stay and through everything, he was my lifeblood.
Reaching for the body wash, I began to lather his body. We shifted into a comfortable silence broken only by our breathing andthe water as it splashed across our bodies. I shampooed the small amount of hair he had and giggled when the soap almost dripped into his eyes, his devilish grin worth the near miss. He kissed me tenderly, sucked my skin until I knew I’d be left with marks and the entire time, we silently caressed and cared, not needing anything else.
Eventually, we spilled out of the shower, each reaching for separate towels and grabbing the robes which were hanging ready for our use.
“Want to watch a movie?” I asked when we were both dressed, wanting to maintain our effortless companionship.
Answering only with a quick nod, Corbs guided us towards my room and hopped up onto the bed where he tucked me into his side.
“Can we get some food though, I’m famished,” he said with a chuckle, and I giggled.
“I can’t believe how stoned I still feel. Buddy back there must have added more weed oil than cake.”
I scrolled Netflix while Corbin drank at least two litres of water and ordered room service, ensuring he made it clear we didn’t want anything with a secret serve of pot. When I found some cheesy action with a side of romance, we snuggled into a lazy evening. There was no weirdness or awkward conversations about what the heck those last few hours were all about or what that meant. It was simply more laughter, sharing of stories and comfortability. My entire battery was full because at no point were we not touching. A leg draped across another, a head on his chest, fingers scraping forearms, and just before we went to sleep, aten for tenwhich started and ended with his fingers tracing swirls beneath my satin dressing gown.
He didn’t leave my bed, nor did he try to initiate anything further. It was a comforting end to what had been the most wonderfully emotional day.
