Argath

buffs for me and none for thee

And no—not even for sex.

You’d be bent over in the kitchen, picking up something you’d dropped or peering into the pan, when suddenly—

You gasp at the sharp snap of his hips against your upturned ass, nearly pitching you forward. You had to brace your palms flat on the counter.

“Hey!”

Before he simply laughs, wandering off.

Or in bed, when he’s draped lazily on top of you like you were a pillow, drowsily sucking on your tongue.

“Mmmm..” Murmuring and humming as he went. His little night cap before going to sleep.

When your thigh, tangled with his legs, grows hot against the half-hard thickness pressing—no, dragging—against it.

And he'd keep going on and on. Languidly grinding with his mouth devotedly slipping against yours until they bruised and you grew dizzy and hot. And wet.

“Do you want to fuck or not?” Sexual frustration blunting your voice.

“No.” He'd say with a scoff, looking unbearably smug.

Thereafter, his hand slides up your waist almost affectionately while his hips give another heady roll against your thigh, watching your face twist hotter and meaner under him.

“Just this turns you on?”

You nearly call him an asshole.

But you’d stopped yourself because you knew he was just like this.

Touchy. Playful with his affection.

To him, it's the same as pulling you into his lap or rubbing his nose against your cheek or squeezing your breasts for comfort.

It was the constant instinctive need to just feel you.

Heart-achingly loving. And annoyingly innocent.

You’d have to bite your tongue, then, at your teasing boyfriend who was all sleepy hips, needy little kisses and mindless friction.

"Umm yeah, they really are," you manage to stutter out through your daze, looking up at the lights hanging from the ceiling. Of course, the first thing you both noticed when you'd walked into the private spa was the multiple, colourful jellyfish shaped lights suspended at various heights above the pool.

"Which one is your favourite?" she continues, "I think you'll like the pink one there." She points at one just above your eyesight.

"Wait which one is pink?" You ask, head spinning as your eyes struggle to focus on any one light in the sea above you.

"That one right there. Hmm wait no," she smirks, "seems like the colour has cycled past pink." You start to turn towards her, when she grabs your chin and tilts your head up forcing you to keep looking, "just keep staring, and I'm sure it will cycle back through to pink eventually."

You stare, eyes growing ever more blank. Even if she wasn't holding your chin, your body is too weak to do anything else. Your partner leans in close, whispering quietly in your ear. At least you think thats whats happening. You can't be sure because it's almost like the lights are sucking up your attention, stealing your thoughts. Capturing your memories and dragging them up with them into the glistening sea. You can feel your grasp of what's happening around you slipping, as everything goes blank....