Page 115 of Mario
It is a kiss of... something else.
Something softer. Deeper.
More complicated.
He kisses me back, his lips soft and gentle; a kiss that is more intimate than the raw, primal fucking we just indulged in.
This is the kind of kiss that leads to feelings. The kind of kiss that makes you want to stay.
The kind of kiss that could break your heart.
We are still kissing when he finally pulls out of me.
The loss is immediate and sharp, and I can't stop the small whimper that escapes my lips.
I feel empty without him. Incomplete.
He rolls over, taking me with him, so I am sprawled across his chest, our legs tangled together.
His heartbeat is a steady thrum against my ear. His hand is stroking my hair, a slow, rhythmic motion that is lulling me into a state of sleepy bliss.
I could stay here forever.
In his arms, in this bed, in this moment.
And that is the most dangerous thought of all.
"Come si deve," I murmur into the warm skin of his chest. "What does that mean?"
He is quiet for a long moment, and I wonder if he is going to answer.
I am starting to think he isn't going to when he finally speaks.
"It means," he says, "as it should be."
My breath catches in my throat.
Oh.
That's... a lot.
That's too much.
But the exhaustion from two weeks of sleepless nights, combined with the force of the primal and thorough fucking he just gave me, is pulling me under.
Hard.
I am drifting on a sea of warm, hazy contentment.
"What about the other thing?" I say, my words slurring as I go limp in his arms.
"What other thing?" he asks, his fingers combing through my hair.
I am so tired.
I need to rest my eyes for a minute.
I am only going to close them for a second.
