D is for Dirty
Disclaimer: Nope, I don’t own a thing!
Summary: Maria’s thoughts on a certain aspect of her and Michael’s relationship…
Author's Note: Written for the Letter_Love LJ community.
When we first started dat—making out, it was always silent. Well, as silent as it could be given the harsh panting sounds of our heavy breathing coupled with our moans. What I mean is we didn't talk. He'd just grab me and pull me into the Eraser Room or some other place where we wouldn't be discovered and our lips would instantly fuse while our hands roamed. Words just weren't necessary.
Oh, there were times when I wanted to speak…and if you know me, then you know how I love to talk but I was always conscious of the fact that the moment I started talking would probably be the moment he would just walk away and leave me standing there.
Later on, that wasn't a concern at all since he suddenly started becoming vocal. His hot breath would caress my ear and the side of my face as his even hotter words spilled out of his mouth, telling me in no uncertain terms how I made him feel and what he wanted to do to me…with me. God, just remembering some of them sends my temperature soaring through the roof. I guess you can imagine what they must have done to me at the time when my teenage hormones were raging.
As our relationship developed, he began putting those sinfully dirty words into practice and actually let me experience the sensations he'd been talking about. And as I grew more confident, I gave as good as I got. His heartbeat would quicken as I told him exactly how amazing he made me feel with his lips…his tongue…his. As more time passed, that list included another part of his body.
The first time we made love was explosive and I'm not exaggerating. By that time we had pretty much already mapped out each other's bodies and were more than a little comfortable with each other. It hadn't been planned…and maybe that was a good thing because my feeling is that the anticipation and expectation combined with the nervousness we would no doubt have felt would have probably killed us. Although, sitting here remembering that night, I can easily recall the way I thought my head was going to explode at the rush of sensations I was experiencing at his talented hands. Not to mention all the flashes he gave me.
Oh, and the dirty talk was in abundance that night. Every naughty, erotic thought either of us had ever had about the other was whispered heatedly in ears and against flushed, sweaty skin.
You'd think as we get older that things would change…calm down, but nope. If anything, they just keep getting hotter and I wouldn't change a single thing. And I know Michael feels exactly the same way. But then again he would, wouldn't he? He is a guy, after all.
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