He rolls his hips, skin against skin, bone against bone; he can't possibly slide any deeper into her body unless he physically crawls inside her skin. [Put the lotion in the basket!]
"Rach," he murmurs, his eyes dark and voice low. "Ever think we'd - like, be here? Together?" Sometimes their lovemaking is full of laughter, tickles [his ribs particularly], grinning and giggling and rolling around until they dislodge on the bed and have to manage to still themselves for long enough to actually make love again [he tries to pin her down so she won't tickle him, but it usually doesn't work]. Other times, they're silent, or harsh, or frantic. Times like now, they're slow and whispering, back and forth as they move the same, as he sets the pace from his position atop her and his fingers pushing the backs of her hands and her wrists harder into their mattress.
The red light of the video camera is steady as it records them, and the slow motions of their bodies in the room's light; they'll watch this in five years and marvel at how much has changed, and how little has changed that matters. They'll still be together, still in love, only louder and prouder and more public than ever. They'll be bigger, and have more, and be more. These times, though, and this year, it's chilly outside and it's just the two of them in some of the best days of their lives, and although they know that there is so much more to come, maybe this quiet is preferable, right now. Who knows if they'll have the luxury and spontaneity of these moments in five years? Who knows if they'll begin before the interruption of a baby's cry, or morning sickness, or they'll work overlapping shifts for a time, or if he'll be injured in the line of duty, or worse? Nobody knows. In this moment, he has her, and she him. No one else knows, and nothing else matters. She was never in his plan, and he didn't realize that he needed her until she was in his bedroom, barging into his house the way that she barged into his life - uninvited, but the best thing that ever happened to him, on both counts.
"M'so proud of you for this," he murmurs on one deep thrust, meeting her lips with his own in a slow kiss.
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"Rach," he murmurs, his eyes dark and voice low. "Ever think we'd - like, be here? Together?" Sometimes their lovemaking is full of laughter, tickles [his ribs particularly], grinning and giggling and rolling around until they dislodge on the bed and have to manage to still themselves for long enough to actually make love again [he tries to pin her down so she won't tickle him, but it usually doesn't work]. Other times, they're silent, or harsh, or frantic. Times like now, they're slow and whispering, back and forth as they move the same, as he sets the pace from his position atop her and his fingers pushing the backs of her hands and her wrists harder into their mattress.
The red light of the video camera is steady as it records them, and the slow motions of their bodies in the room's light; they'll watch this in five years and marvel at how much has changed, and how little has changed that matters. They'll still be together, still in love, only louder and prouder and more public than ever. They'll be bigger, and have more, and be more. These times, though, and this year, it's chilly outside and it's just the two of them in some of the best days of their lives, and although they know that there is so much more to come, maybe this quiet is preferable, right now. Who knows if they'll have the luxury and spontaneity of these moments in five years? Who knows if they'll begin before the interruption of a baby's cry, or morning sickness, or they'll work overlapping shifts for a time, or if he'll be injured in the line of duty, or worse? Nobody knows. In this moment, he has her, and she him. No one else knows, and nothing else matters. She was never in his plan, and he didn't realize that he needed her until she was in his bedroom, barging into his house the way that she barged into his life - uninvited, but the best thing that ever happened to him, on both counts.
"M'so proud of you for this," he murmurs on one deep thrust, meeting her lips with his own in a slow kiss.