Need
He catches his lip between his teeth and holds it lightly as he turns his head, brushing his cheek against the black leather surface of the bench.
I let the cane come to rest, lightly this time, against his skin, so pale but for a single, pink stripe, rapidly darkening to crimson.
I lay one hand on his back, watching the faint movement of his breath expand his ribs, feeling the warmth build between his skin and mine, feeling the quick twitch of muscle and breath as a second stripe blushes from white to pink to red.
He turns his face into the cushioned leather, brushing his lips against it, closing his eyes. It is almost the soft kiss of a lover and I smile and run my fingers through his hair.
“It’s been a long time,” I murmur above him. He nods slowly, eyes still closed.
A third stripe makes a set.
He jerks and sucks in his breath, then suddenly he sighs long and heavily. It is a sigh of relief, a sigh of release, of letting go tensions too long held. It is the sigh of a man who has been holding his literal and metaphorical breath for too long.
I give him a fourth and watch him tuck his chin into his chest, press his forehead into the bench, bend one knee slowly, almost languidly. In his movement I watch the pain – build, crest, break and retreat.
“You’ve missed it.”
It isn’t a question but he answers, “Yes,” all breath and sibilance, both affirmation and plea, shaded with arousal, longing, and heartache.
One. Two. Three. In quick succession now seven stripes ladder hip to thigh and finally draw his voice from his throat in a soft, “Ah…”
I lay the cane gently in the curve of his lower back and lightly drag my fingernails over his ass, relishing the alternating contours of smooth skin and raised weals beneath my fingertips, the shuddering breath that reaches my ears, the shiver that translates through my hand still resting on his back.
“Please,” he breathes.
I reverse direction and drag my nails back upward as I lean towards him, brushing my lips against his ear. “Yes?” I barely murmur the word and I hear his breath catch. He turns his face slightly towards me.
“Please…don’t stop, yet…”
I press a soft kiss against his temple. I linger for a moment, feeling his heartbeat pulsing beneath my lips before I curve them into a smile.
“No,” I agree, rising and lifting the cane from his back. With the tip of it I retrace the path my fingernails forged moments before. His squirm is delicious and I feel my saliva rise. “I won’t be stopping for some time, yet…”
