24. Communion

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Warning: this chapter contains some sexual contents...I prefer to warn for those who do not appreciate it.


Demet

"Demet, I love you."

A few letters that form words. Words that form a sentence. A sentence that flies between his lips...

I'm hypnotized as the lift doors close behind him.

His words speak like a relief, like a confession that could solve everything. A confession behind which we could imprison our fears.

His distraught gaze doesn't leave mine and we remain there, in that heavy silence, suspended one from the other.

I grab his hand to drag him as quickly as possible to my flat.

I see the fire in his eyes

The fire of passion, the fire of rage. I put my palms around his wet face, his hair still dripping. In extreme gentleness, I unbutton his shirt and uncover his imposing shoulders, fighting with the damp cloth that remains stuck to his skin. He doesn't leave my sight while mine is wandering over his body with each of my gestures. The clothes scatter in a halo of water at our feet as I strip off the leaves.

He shivers.

Drowning each in the other's gaze, we stand still for a moment.

I drag him in my wake in the shower after I've gotten rid of my clothes.

We are naked, face to face, letting water run over our bodies, savoring the comforting warmth that soothes our tensions. No words need to be spoken, gestures speak for themselves. Yet Can is still very shy, letting me totally take the ascendancy of my desires. My hands walk on his imposing torso, gently, and I caress with my finger the last traces of the ephemeral tattoo representing the albatross. I linger on its contours, the fine line that perfectly draws its pectorals and I come to put my greedy lips on this skin. I can hear his breathing stopping. I smile and let my hands snoop around her back where every muscle tightens as I pass by.

I hear my name in a long sigh that escapes him.

"Demet"

I start to soap him, wash his hair, not a single inch of skin is left out. I can feel him relaxing, his mysterious and unfathomable gaze still clinging to me. I rinse him and then I start to soap myself and if I could have imagined that he would take care of it, I can see that he takes pleasure in watching me do it. So I don't forget any detail, lasciviously insisting on the most rounded parts of my anatomy. He keeps staring at me every movement and his voyeuristic side is driving me completely crazy. Without even laying his hands on me, I shiver and run out of breath as he grabs his limb and starts to caress himself. I feel faint. I want to take the place of his hand, I want to be the only one through whom pleasure comes.

So without thinking, I grab a towel in a hurry and dry us off in fourth gear, forcing him to give up his occupation.

So without thinking, I grab a towel in a hurry and dry us like a shot, forcing him to give up his occupation. I remain completely focused on my own goal, to be the only one through whom pleasure comes.

I drag him to my bed and force him to lie down, right in the middle.

Snippets of lighting in the bathroom flood the room with soft light.

I take each of his hands between mine and then bring each of his fingers to my mouth, kissing them with a provocative smile on the corner of my lips, lingering to lick fingertips with the point of my tongue.

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