monty's musings

“she’s fond of you,” you smile, hands tucked under your chin and blanket curled in your fists. the bed is cold without him but nearly just as cold with him in it, patchwork skin stuck in a constant chill that never seems to leave him unless you’re pressed close. your body still searches for his regardless, curling inward and bending toward his silhouette like a flower reaching for sunlight. adam looks to you with shining eyes and closes his book before turning his attention to the cat. 

his lifts his hand slowly and lets her smell him, his body held taut and still. only after she butts his hand with her hard little head does he caress her ears with a subdued palm and benevolent fingers, humming deep under his breath when her purring only increases at his touch. 

you cannot lie and say you don’t understand her. you feel the same way when adam graces you with his touch too, a hand over your heart as you sleep soundly beside him, a hesitant pat to your head after a hearty supper or a particularly good book you found for him. always gentle, mostly painstakingly hesitant. boundless reassurance and patience chips away slowly at the thawing want that you know resides under the surface of his skin; underneath innate selflessness lies the vastness of his yearning, the warmth of his own beating heart aiding your practice. he longs for merciful touches and a forgiving gaze, though there’s hardly a thing to forgive him for. 

adam is slow and soft to speak, his voice a rumbling gravel when it finally kisses your ears. “she likes this.” 

she tilts her head again and rubs her face into his palm. 

“she likes you,” you reiterate. there’s a shy, pleased smile tugging at the dark corners of his lips, and your own trails behind. “she is not the only one who does.” 

you tuck your face further into your pillow to laugh at your own brazenness, and when you look to adam again, he’s standing from his chair and regarding you with those shining eyes of his, regarding you like you’re something purely unbelievable. you uncurl your fists from the blanket and beckon him with a quirked finger and a thrumming heart. 

his first few steps are stiff, his neck cracks again as he sets his shoulders, but he moves with the motion of your beckoning finger and sheds his clothes the closer he comes, rounding the corner of the bed and hesitating only a moment before you lift the blankets for him. he’s stiff again as he settles beside you, shifting on his back to find the most comfortable position to lay in. 

“do you hurt?” you ask. your hand finds his sternum, fingers tracing suture lines along cool, blue-gray skin. 

“my body aches,” he answers easily. day in and day out he aches, but the cold always makes it worse. you frown then, only appeased by the way his fingers twitch when you curl closer to him to share your body heat, a long pinky grazing the soft skin of your thigh. “but it feels better like this.” 

only when you slip your thigh over his and tuck your face into his shoulder does he allow himself the simple pleasure of wrapping an arm around you; he slips it underneath your neck and around your back, cold fingers relearning the shape of your spine and the give of your hip. his other hand slips to the bent elbow of your arm that’s resting on his puzzle piece chest. everything about you is so soft, so warm. 

“my love,” you whisper, a kiss placed over his heart, over the tender lines of borrowed flesh. 

your nose brushes his chin when you lift your head to find him already peering down at you, gaze as warm as the lit hearth crackling by your bed, an equally orange tint in one sparkling eye. the tip of his nose taps the bridge of yours then and traces shyly upwards until his lips meet your forehead. he rests them there for a moment, turning himself closer to you to lay his forehead on yours and share your trembling breath. 

“why do you refer to me as such? is adam not to your liking?” 

adam is very much to your liking. he is your adam, just as he is your love, your sweetheart and darling and treasure. he told you that was his name the first time you met. how could you take that away from him when it belongs so wholeheartedly to him? 

adam, the first of his kind, the antithesis of sin. an unwitting creation and the greatest joy of your life. 

“adam is certainly to my liking,” it’s said through smiling lips and glinting teeth. you lift your arm to tuck the sweet strands of white behind his ear. “it’s like… hm. a term of endearment for someone you care about, you see? i call you that because i love you. you are my love because you have my heart.” 

his breath wheezes. he lifts his own hand to mimic you, tucking your hair behind your ear in return. you cup his scarred cheek in your hand and he leans into the touch, closing his eyes in contentment when you keep it there. you keep it there when you lean in too, your nose nudging the gray tip of his just before you press your lips to his for the first time that night. adam exhales through his nose, shuddered and surprised as always, even though this is far from the first time you’ve come together to share a sweet kiss. 

it’s slow and chaste, a soft press of lips that’s easy for him to melt into. and that’s exactly what he does — he melts, thawing underneath your touch and the give of your mouth. adam is pliant under your hands and content to let you guide him, tilting his head as you do to deepen it and sighing into your slick lips. his body clings to the cold but his mouth is blissfully warm, his timid tongue hot when it finally brushes yours. 

the noise you breathe into his mouth is as earnest as your greedy hands. that’s what you wholly are to your core, greedy, the furthest inverse of adam’s selfless nature, open and honest in your desire for him while he learns to navigate his own. what he gives, you will undoubtedly take. 

and take you do, with hands roaming the bare ridges of his shoulder and carding through his hair. adam is lax when you lift onto an elbow to kiss him deeper, a large hand smoothing up your spine to brush the ends of your hair, but he stiffens when you adjust your leg that’s settled over his hip. 

adam shudders then, your name a ragged whisper through his uneven breath. his cock is hard at the bend of your knee, hard from longing touches and a kiss that reached the depths of your soul. he looks away from you as if he’s ashamed, so you cup his cheek once more to guide him back to you. 

“i apologize,” he insists. adam’s hand comes to cup yours that still rests on his cheek. “it was not my intention-”

“it’s alright,” you insist in return. you’re faring the same, an ache deep in your belly and heat dripping between your legs. honey dipped and slick you are for him, your body readying itself to take and take and take in whatever capacity he wants to give. you tuck yourself further into his side so that your breasts press to his cool skin, nipples tightening at the instant chill. his hips kick as if he can’t help but move against you, and he ducks his head to the side to press his forehead to the top of your head. your arm slips down his chest, your fingers find the taut skin of his stomach. “may i… touch you?” 

adam’s throat clicks as he swallows, another small grunt leaves his lips and his searching eyes look to yours for reassurance. 

“yes.” whispered yet steady. willing. curious. 

“even here?” your own voice is hushed, scared to speak any louder as if it would shatter the moment you’re sharing together. the tips of your fingers trail underneath his bellybutton in wait of his answer. his cock bobs its own response underneath the blanket, but you still wait for his with a drying mouth and a rabbiting heart. 

“anywhere that would please you.” his fingers find the ball of your shoulder, twitching and tapping where they caress. 

you want to touch him so badly you feel it in your bones, carved deep in your marrow. a lifetime of pain and sorrow eclipsed by the vastness of pleasure and love, both of which you are willing and able to pour upon him until he understands that he’s deserving of both. 

“but i want it to please you,” you beg. you sit up on your elbow again to look at him closely. you cup his neck desperately with one trembling hand, brush your fingers along the lobe of his ear. “i want to show you, if you would let me. i want to show you what it feels like to be touched in this way.” 

you adjust your knee again, curling further onto your side so that it’s the softness of your thigh pressing to the length of his cock instead. adam’s lashes flutter, his breath leaves his heaving lungs in a rush. 

“please. please, show me everything.” 

your eyes roam his face, the lines that make him. shifting your leg away from his cock, the first brush of your fingers against his drooling tip makes your brows furrow and your jaw drop. adam clings to you like a limpet, blue-gray fingers curling around wherever they can, but they don’t seem to stay in place for long. he doesn’t know where to keep his hands, so he keeps them everywhere, your shoulder, your hips, the back of your head and arms. despite the chill coming from the rest of his body, he’s warm here, from the collection of pooled blood or the weight of your leg or both. his body tightens and releases when you wrap your fingers around the head and ease your grip down. he’s leaking enough that the slide is slick. it could be slicker if you went to retrieve a vial of oil, but there’s nothing you’d rather do less than pull away from him. 

you stroke him slowly, eyes locked on his and reeling over the way his fight to stay on yours when they want to roll into his skull. his breathing is ragged, a soft, gruff growl leaving his lips every time you twist your wrist at the crown of him. 

“how do you feel?”

“i feel,” he starts. his throat bobs, his legs twitch. “i cannot… i cannot describe it, my lady. i have never… felt this.” 

greed flares, a boiling pot of water that’s bubbling over the edges and spilling down the sides. you whimper then, the simple thought that you’re the one showing him even the basest pleasure sends a lick of heat down your spine. 

“does it feel nice?” a push. you need to know if it feels as good to him as it feels to you. 

“yes. yes, it is nice. you are… so soft, your hand. on me.” 

his stomach tightens. you know he’s close to his climax before he does, and that’s just another thing you’ll be able to show him. his eyes sparkle in the dim light, one reflecting the flickering firelight like he’s the one who’s ablaze inside. adam places his hand on your flexing arm to feel your muscles working, and his teeth gnash. 

“something is-” he starts, but you don’t let him finish. 

“mm. yes, that’s good. it’ll feel even nicer soon. is that alright? may i help you feel nice, lovie?” 

adam is too overcome by the feeling of his building orgasm to give you a verbal answer, but he nods his head because he’s nothing if not polite. his hips buck unconsciously into your slick grip, his fingers squeeze your skin lightly every time your stroke hits his pelvic bone. adam’s eyes roam then to the movement of your hand underneath the blankets, so you push them to his thighs so he can watch himself receive the pleasure you so willingly give him. you look too — eyes widening at the sheer size of him in your grip, the dark color at his tip and the way your fingers shine with his pre. your love curls into you when he cums from just your hand, a new, serene first, feral growl bursting from his lips as he tips over the edge and sinks into your embrace. 

your hand is sticky with his release, white coating your fingertips. it’s without a second thought that you bring them to your lips for a taste and suck the bitter spend down your throat with a low hum. adam watches with curious, wide eyes and equally curious fingers. they trail to your cheek and then to your neck to feel the way you swallow. 

“is there-?” adam’s chest heaves, those beautiful eyes find yours again. “is there something i could do for you? like that.” 

you smile then, suddenly shy at the mere thought of reciprocation. it wasn’t what you were seeking when you wrapped your hand around him, hungry only to make him feel the pleasure he so graciously deserves. 

“well, yes, but. but it was my desire to do this for you, not to have you do something for me.” 

he shakes his head, silk strands falling into bright eyes. “please,” he pleads. “i beg, allow me this. you have shown me a new world, i only wish for you to accompany me there.” 

adam finishes his plea by pressing his angular face to your chest and kissing whatever he can reach. he is clumsy and sweet, his chapped lips mapping your collarbones and the tender swells of your breasts. he grunts and whines into your skin, and you can’t deny him anything, especially when he asks for something so sweetly, even more so when he’s admitting to something he wants. 

your fingers find his, and he waits with bated breath against your chest as you bring his digits between your thighs. he’s cold where you’re warm, boiling hot and silky wet under the touch of his fingers. he looks to you then, as he so often does, letting you guide him under your touch so that he can learn the feel of somewhere so intimate, a place he’s never been before. you settle further into your pillow with a dreamy sigh, curling an arm around adam’s shoulders to hold onto him. he watches you keenly as his fingers slip and nudge and assess. 

“i’m soaked,” you whisper, half disbelieving of just how much his fingers slide against you. there’s hardly any friction between your legs. “for you.” 

“for… me?” 

he lifts his hand from you then, eyes leaving your face only to survey the wetness coating the pads of his fingers. they shine under the light of the fire, and you press your thighs together at the sight. 

“would you like to taste it?” your eyes are heavy lidded and your voice is low. he nods then, slowly, like he’s making sure he’s allowed to want such a thing. you take hold of his wrist but let him set the speed, bringing his own fingers to his lips and meeting them with a slippery tongue. his pulse spikes under the tips of your fingers, and he takes his own between his lips then to get a better taste.  

adam purrs from deep in his throat, a sound reminiscent of your orange tabby he loves so much, pleased and content and satisfied at the new taste of you on his tongue. you slip your hand up his arm and back down just to feel him while he sucks your sweetness from his fingers. they pop from his mouth when he’s done, and he looks at you with something akin to awe in his dark eyes, that starry wonder only deepening when you take the meat of his hand in your grasp to bring his fingers to your own lips. your tongue finds the wet tips of them and meets the taste of his skin, only the faintest hint of yourself left behind from his diligence. 

his hand dips back between your legs with a renewed vigor, a curious tenancy to learn your body the way you so quickly learned his. but he falters at the first moan you give him, something loud and unbridled that he’s not expecting. his hand snaps away like he’s been shocked. 

“i- apologize, i apologize, i couldn’t help it.” your words are warbled and wet in your throat, tongue thick and heavy. you reach for him with trembling hands and clutch onto his arm in a pitiful attempt to bring his fingers back to your core. 

“you are not in pain?” 

a wild shake of your head. adam’s fingers find you then after your quick reassurance, gentle and cool like a fall breeze in a place that burns so hot. his hair sweeps into his eyes as he leans over you to keep careful watch on your face, the expressions you make that cause conflict in his mind. furrowed brows, a clenching jaw, wild noises falling from your lips that he immediately assumes are out of pain, but you hold him close to you instead of pushing him away. you don’t hit him or scold him or mock him, you lean into him with spread legs and tender arms.  

“your hands feel wonderful,” you breathe. “i sound this way because you are- ah! do you remember how it felt when you spilled over my fingers?” a quiet, throaty yes from adam. “you are making me feel the same. it feels, oh, it feels so nice.” 

“nice?” he parrots. “feels… nice.” 

your hips raise, and the first glide of his fingers over your swollen clit makes you keen. adam repeats the noise back to you, a trill in his throat to copy yours in his own special way, to share the sounds of your pleasure and join with his own. 

“that little bump… it is sensitive to me. touch me there, feel it with your fingers.” 

adam learns what pleases you the most like that, with the pads of his fingers massaging the ridge of your clit and his earnest focus on your face. he takes into account the way your breath hitches when he touches a certain way, or how your thighs quiver when he circles around it slowly. your toes curl when he traps it between his slick fingers; your cries bless his ears when he presses them slightly harder. he lets you guide him further down then with your own insistent fingers, down to the give of something sweet and sticky and warm, where your hunger for him is ravenous. 

you feel it then, so overcome by your own pleasure that the jut of his hard cock against your hip only registers when he prods curious fingers at your clenching hole. you reach down for the length of him, arm hugged between your bodies and tucked tight to your side. you can only brush the tip of his cock with your fingertips, but adam purrs like you’ve fully engulfed him with your hand again. 

“i want to take you.” you’re squirming by now, desperate to wrap your hand around him again but ultimately unable. “i need it. but you must- you must prepare me first, yes?” 

“how, my lady?” 

“with your fingers, like this.” you angle his wrist and use your grip to ease it forward, sliding two long fingers into your cunt. two from the start burns pleasantly, but your desperation exceeds the need for only one, and he slips in soundly regardless, aided by your wetness. “it will help me relax a bit, and it will help you… fit.” 

he mouths the word. you can see the cogs turning in his head — he looks down at himself and then down to where his fingers spear you open. his eyes find yours again when you clench down on him purposefully, and you smile at him, something soft and playful, the type of smile that adam can’t help but return with one of his own. 

“i understand. i have read of such in your books.” 

“in my books!” you guffaw. “my- my-! no. you have not. have you?!” 

he hums in response, pressing his smile to your glistening throat. “mm. the red one, at the far end of the furthest shelf. you have marked several pages. what did you like about them?” 

you release his wrist and throw your arm over your face instead, narrowly missing knocking adam over the head with your errant knuckles. of course you forget about the erotic novel terribly hidden in your bookshelf, and of course adam has already read it front to back, thumbing through countless pages of your wildest desires, of written words that made your heart flutter and your cunt pulse. 

“if you must know, i will inform you later.” you rock your hips into his hand and finally pull your arm away from your face to wrap around the back of his head. “please, my love, will you curl your fingers? place your palm- yes, right there.” 

with his palm pressed to your clit and his fingers curling inside, you see stars on the inside of your closed eyelids. adam is mouthing at your neck once more, his subtle playfulness replaced by his need to please. he listens well and learns quickly, massaging your insides with diligent fingers as your noises pitch in his ear, noises that he responds to in kind, breathing grunts and huffs and coos into your neck to answer your own. 

“you are so warm,” he grunts. a deep hook of his fingers that makes you shudder in his hold. “so soft, everywhere i put my hands.” 

if you don’t feel him inside of you in the next minute, you’re going to burst into a million pieces, stardust covering the floor of your cabin and swept into a jar of glittering desire. 

“because i am ready for you.” he lifts himself from the cradle of your neck and looks into your eyes, leaning down just as you crane your neck in search of a kiss. you lose yourself in it for a moment, the sweet press of his lips and his shy tongue. but his cock still throbs at your hip, and you still pulse around his fingers. “i’m going to roll us over now.” 

adam is as pliant as can be as you roll him onto his back and take your seat atop of his lap. his hands hover for a moment but ultimately seek the solace of your hips while his eyes roam your naked form, pausing at the swell of your breasts before dipping to your heaving belly and then farther down. he resettles his gaze onto your face when your soft fingers knead his shoulders and dig into the base of his throat. 

“your neck must feel better like this,” you muse. 

“i would not know, as it was not on my mind.” 

he has such a way with words even if he doesn’t know it. your lips tug at the corners, and you lean down to blanket him with your body, kissing his lips just once and then his chin, making your way down to kiss the suture marks on his neck and feeling the saccharine vibrations on your lips when he purrs deep in his throat. 

your cunt drags up his cock like this, and you reach down to hold him steady so that you can ease yourself down onto his tip. it’s hot in your hand, silky and warm and primed for you. adam’s breath leaves his lungs in a rush, his mouth moves like he wants to speak but just can’t. you’re faring no better — it’s sugar coated no matter how base it is, the first act of your coupling is as sweet as the berries that grow on the bushes in the summer. 

“you’re stretching me,” you keen. your fingers scramble for purchase on his patchwork chest, sinking, sinking, sinking down until your clit mashes against his pubic mound.  “adam, my adam, you’re so deep inside.” 

“deep. deep, yes.” 

he’s so deep that it feels like he could pierce your lungs. if he bucked his hips just once he’d carve a place for himself between your ribs. he already holds your heart in his hands, so he might as well, shape a home for himself inside your body where he’s always welcomed, where he’s always loved and wanted. 

but adam doesn’t buck his hips. he doesn’t chase the pleasure you know he must be feeling. he waits for you instead, keen to let you move at your pace and bring the pleasure to him rather than taking it for himself. with your hands braced on his chest, you lift yourself up to the crown of his cock and back down with a whimper. you repeat the movement slowly until you set a rhythm to your liking, and adam’s hands travel to your wrists, cupping the bone and tapping expressive, bending fingers onto the top of your flexed hands. his touch is tender. you’d never expect someone of his size, someone made of his manner to be as gentle as he, but that’s just the nature of your adam. 

just as it is his nature to help you when you falter. despite your eagerness to bounce on his cock, you tire out easily, thighs burning as you lift yourself high to feel the entirety of him. adam’s large hands find the dips of your waist. it’s the hardest he’s ever taken hold of you but only with the purpose to aid in your movements, taking some of your weight into his hands so that you can ride easier. 

it’s beautifully relentless, a never ending pleasure. adam’s long, heavy cock strokes all of the right spots inside. you want to watch his face, see how pleasure contorts it, but your eyes won’t stop rolling, you can hardly keep them open. your own heavy breathing is nearly deafening in your ears, the only thing louder than your own pathetic noises is the steady clap of your skin together, the sound of adam’s raspy grunts following close behind. what a perfect melody you’ve created together, one you want to replicate again and again. 

you bend over him again, pressing your forehead to his to look into his eyes. your hardened nipples brush his chest like this, your belly nudges his, and adam wraps his arms around you to hug you close with two large palms pressed to your spine. 

there are so many ways to make love again. there are so many ways to show him pleasure, to learn that pleasure together. there are locations you can go, positions you can try, sluttish books to read and outdo. but it’s perfect like this, with your fingers brushing through brunette and white strands and a palm to his sutured cheek, kissing his lips and easing your tongue along the slice in his top lip. 

“my lady,” adam growls. he changes his course, follows it up with another deep growl of your name that you swallow down with an eager tongue. “i feel it. it is happening again, i am-”

you cut him off with frantic words and an equally frantic roll of your hips. “inside of me. please, stay inside!” 

adam’s body locks tight when he cums. he clings to you as his cock kicks inside the snug haven of your cunt, pouring rope after rope of his spend where you want it the most. it doesn’t take you long to follow, not when you guide adam’s fingers between your thighs to nudge circles on your sensitive clit. you tip over the precipice just as adam catches his breath — it’s easier for him to catch you this way. 

your heart rabbits in your chest, and when you rest your cheek atop of adam’s sternum, his heart is thunderous, a quick thrum that slows to a lull the longer you breathe together.