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The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing. Two people sat on the bed; one tall, one short; one with blond hair, one with brown; one with violet eyes and one with brown. Two people, so very different, but when together, when looking into each others’ eyes, they were one.

The male, Thomas, cupped the others, Rose’s, cheek and their foreheads rested against each other. As they stared into each others’ eyes, small smiles on their faces, the rest of the world did not exist. It was only them. Only him. Only her.

Their breathing got more shallow as they slowly, very slowly, tilted their heads and let their lips briefly touch. Once. Twice. For the third time. They both pulled back and looked at each other again, eyes searching. The blond male seemed to look for permission, his expression uncharacteristically calm as he searched for his answer. She, the brown headed female, made the slightest movement of her head, nodding. He grinned and her face seemed to grow brighter because of his happiness.

Slowly, he moved his head toward hers again, but stopped centimeters away from her lips, sharing her breath, but not touching her slips. He waited, patiently, until she closed the gap. This kiss started out as slow as chastely as the first, but quickly moved on. The kisses grew deeper, the gasping for air grew louder, and their bodies moved closer.

Her arms were around his neck, fingers grasping at the hairs on the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His arms were surrounding her, engulfing her. One cupped the back of her neck, making sure she didn’t back up as their kissing grew more heated; the other was wrapped around her small waist, pulling her closer, closer, closer. He couldn’t get her close enough. Soon, she was on her knees, straddling his lap, feeling his well defined chest pressed against her smaller one. It still wasn’t close enough.

Their position changed once again as she was moved from on top his to beneath him. Her back was now against the bed. Her arms moved, one stayed around his neck, holding onto him tighter, holding him closer, as the other moved down his back and landed, finally, against the soft satiny sheets. Her fingers tightened their grip on the fabric, not even considering the wrinkles and damage done to such an expensive item as he grew bolder and smoothed his hand down her side. He pulled back, resisting her arm trying to keep him close, and separated their lips. She made a gentle, whining sound, but made no more movement to stop him.

She watched him as he stared intently at his hand as it moved along her body. His face was filled with awe and curiosity and overwhelming love. She watched his emotions travel across his face until she could bear to no longer. She relaxed, closer her eyes, and tried to enjoy the sensation of him touching her. Soon, though, his hands were under her shirt, gently tracing her stomach. She opened her eyes when the soft movements stopped and looked up at him. He was watching her face closely, studying it. When his hands tugged at the bottom of her shirt, she only took a deep breath, paused for a moment to collect herself, and nodded. Their eyes never separated the entire time.

He peeled the shirt up slowly, taking his time and worshipping every new piece of skin revealed, first with his hands and then with his mouth. The shirt rose higher and higher and the higher it moved the better his touching felt. When the shirt was completely off, he sat up and stared. She took advantage of his pause and sat up slowly, reaching out to him. When she got close enough, she touched the bottom of his shirt, and rubbed it between her fingers, staring at it. She glanced up at him, knowing no permission was needed, but wanting it nonetheless, and smiled slightly at his grin of agreement. The shirt went away quickly and she was left staring and tracing his stomach and chest. She returned the favor by using her mouth as well.

The bra went off next with little struggle. She made sure to guide him alone the way. He showed his gratitude for her help by making her back arch and mouth moan as he worshipped the newly discovered skin. Pants went off next, first his, then hers. His was done in a proper, slow way as he stood at the end of the bed. Hers was done in a rough, kicking fashion as desperation got the better of her. When she got stuck and no longer had any kind of patience to get them off herself, he let out a small laugh and grabbed her legs. He gently pulled the pants off of her. Her gentleman. She scowled. He smiled. Everything was perfect.

All that was left was underwear. One wore boxers that had a rather large, at least in the females opinion, tent showing. The other had on cotton white underwear that was rather damp. They stared at each other. Her eyes were locked on the tent, wondering what she had gotten herself into, yet aroused anyway. His eyes were locked onto that wet spot on her underwear that was growing by the minute. He was still standing at the edge of the bed and decided to go first. Slowly, in an accidentally seductive manner, pushed his boxers down his hips, thighs, calves, and far away from his body. She stared. He watched her. An impasse. She sat up and moved to her knees, reaching out. This time she did so without looking for permission.

She only used a finger as she softly ran it down his length. He shuddered at the feeling. She stared in curiosity and awe and excitement and fear. He waited, patiently. He knew her. He loved her. He would wait forever for her. Soon, she moved again, this time using more of her hand. She wrapped her hand around it and squeezed lightly. He jerked a little. She looked up at him, asking for guidance. He cupped her cheek with his hand, traced her lips with his thumb, and placed his other hand over hers. He moved her hand up and down, up and down, tighter, tighter, twist, twirl, until she had it down. His girl had always been a quick learner. He pulled away soon though, he wasn’t ready to let go of himself yet, not before he was inside of her.

He got onto his knees on the bed, and crawled towards her as she scooted back. When they got closer to the head of the bed, they both stopped and breathed. He reached for her hips, tracing the outline of her underwear as he stared into her eyes. Her eyes held impatience now and her hands encouraged him to take her last piece of clothing off. He was not in such a rush and leaned in for a kiss, a long, slow, wet kiss that held nothing but love and desire. There was a fire in both of their eyes as he pulled back and stared into her eyes. He stared into them the entire time he removed that last piece of clothing. Finally, finally, finally they were both undressed. It was just him and her. Only him. Only her.

He leaned over her, attaching their lips together once again as he lowered his body against hers. It was just them. Flesh against flesh, him and her. But it was still not close enough. His hips rocked against hers, not entering, but suggesting. She tensed, but relaxed. She trusted and loved the man in her arms more than anyone on the entire planet. Not that she would tell him that. But he knew. He knew and felt the same.

At last, their lips parted, their foreheads touched, and their eyes connected as he moved forward. As he entered her. As he connected with her. There was pain, at first, and the one tear that spilled was kissed away. His kisses usually made things better, no matter how fiercely she would argue against it. He knew that too. But soon, the pain went away and there was only peace and content and pleasure. Only him. Only her. And finally, after such a long time of waiting, they were close enough together.