Unedited too- I need a beta
"The Memory of you emerges from the night around me./The River mingles it's stubborn lament with the sea."
Neruda, The Song Of Despair
It had been a long goodbye, swept up on the tide of a waning summer. It's time, Harry knows, for them both to go about their business.
He's just not sure there is a sadder thing than an empty hotel room previously shared. Now, he's absorbed on the wind as it blows out this villa window, over the flower speckled hillside and down to the ocean waves.
He can still hear his moans and her gasps surfing upon the white capped waves below.
She's been gone an hour and he can still smell her scent mingled in the sheet with his.
She's been gone a moments and he only hears memories.
She's gone now, or he will be for months, and he hopes she'll taste him for days afterwards.
He plans to eat honey and lemon every day to remember her flavor.
He's not sure what to recommend for bodily nostalgia to her.
Maybe that's why he came on the flat of her tongue instead of down her throat. So she'd taste him for ages longer.
They hadn't even made it to dinner, they were to starved for this last evening alone.
"It is the happy hour of assault and the kiss./The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse."
Neruda- the song of despair
"That new?" He asks because he is absolutely sure he would have remembered it had he seen it fall across her curves and edges before.
"Oh, this old thing?" her green eyed gaze is alight with amusement. And pleasure. The mischief in her eyes is his favorite web.
Harry gestures to the top of the garment. "I would have remembered this."
"The side boob?" She laughs.
"Um," he's not really sure what to say there. "Like, the drape of it, is nice."
"Aren't you into fashion?" She openly laughing at him, and he's shaking his head. "That's the best you can do?"
He laughs with her, he absolutely loves laughing with her, even at his expense. "Alright! I like your side boob." He confesses.
She adjusts her top, and the side boob becomes a coy flash of her rosy dawn nipples.
It's intentional.
"Are you hungry?" He asks abruptly. Harry's appetite has shifted.
"Not for food." Her eyes cast up under her lashes and he's spellbound. His feet are answering her silent request.
"What's on the menu then?" He asks against her ear, pressed up behind her. He likes that her frame fits like a bracket with his, he doesn't need to crouch to fit his knees into hers, and the top of her head is always easy to place a buss. He does that, and tilts to the side to memorize whatever the scent of the soap in the bathroom makes when it mingles with her smell. He wants to bite her neck, does.
"Um," oh good, hes already got her speechless. She uses words like she owns the, speaks fast, way faster than him, so he takes it as a personal triumph when he catches her without without them. "That, that's good." He's found the notch below her ear.
"Hmmmm, anything else you're craving?" He whispers near her ear lobe.
She gestures toward the window and he's grin in victory if his mouth wasn't busy making her moan. He's dancing her toward the view and guiding the sun dress up to her hips: it's lose enough from the waist down to get her bare below without to much trouble and he's trying to decide if he should take it off or just pop her tits out and leave her with only the cinched places at her neck and waist truly inaccesible.
"No pants?" He'd be surprised, but it's their last night together for a bit and she is cheeky.
"Didn't seem necessary." She finds words.
"Good point." He quips and runs the tip of his finger from her dampening opening to her swelling pleasure. "You are definitely hungry." The circles he is making have her working back on his hips. He'd lose the grip he had if he didn't tighten it. "Like this?" He asks when he's got a thumb on her rough spot inside and his pointer finger and thumb rotating.
She just bites her lip and nods. "'Maybe a little more." She leans her long neck back, for a kiss and to remind him of all the yielding skin she'd shown him how to squeeze after they'd gotten comfortable with each other.
"Yeah?" His hand coasts from its tight grip on her pelvis to the delicate collarbone.
He's always had large hands, long slim fingers, and he likes to choke her with his tattooed hand. But that one is busy.
When he's got her locked in tight, immobile with two grips, he puts the slightest pressure in the sides of her neck. She pulses around his thumb and swells under his digits.
"Starving, huh?"
She whines, he loves how their by play switches back and forth, how defenseless they each can be, when he's bent over and open to her or she places her life in his hands. The trust is the most erotic part of their sex life.
He trusts her.
And she trusts him. He squeezes a tiny bit harder, and she lets go. His hand soaked and the dress unwearable until it's washed. His grip loosens and he kisses her cheek. He doesn't let go, she's boneless, shivering.
"Better baby?"he kisses the side of her mouth.
"I'm still hungry." She rasps out, and he's about to bend her over the sill, let her feel the wind in her face and his cock in her pussy, but she drops to her knees and his pants hit the floor fast enough to where he is the one leaning forward to gulp sea air. The wood is rigid as he squeezes his palms, nothing like her sweet skin.
"Fuck, baby." He moans when she nuzzles her nose in the hair at his base. She worked on that truck the whole of filming. Her way of taking on a challenge extending even into their evening secret. The long slide and suck of her tongue completely off him had him missing and marveling her talents.
"Little deeper next time, give it a push." She winks at him and laps at his head. The sea view is forgotten while she maintains eye contact and takes him in and out a few times, shallow, a tease. On the fourth pass, she shakes her head just a tiny bit, he feels the tips of her nose and blinks up at him.
"Sure?" He asks.
Can you roll your eyes with a mouthful? He thinks. A woman of many talents. But he takes her at her gesture and cups the back of her silky head, presses gently until he can feel the head of his cock deepen. She swallows and he is ready to burst. Suddenly her eyes widen and she pulls off choking just a bit.
"Sorry!" He immediately says and tries to help her to her feet.
"No, no, I got it. You were there."
"Babe?" He starts to question, but her determined face is on, and cute and sexy and oh Fuck, she's got ahold of the sides of his ass and is fucking her own face and he's gonna come. "FUCK!"
He's sure all of Positano heard that.
They close the window when they move to the bed.
Later, he can't close the door on the memory. He finds himself wondering how he can work it into a song, an ode to trust, and love, and a beautiful place.
Is there a sweet at to commemorate choking her with a sea view, twice?
