“You know, it’s not all about sex.” He was on the other side of the ro
“You know, it’s not all about sex.” He was on the other side of the room, she could tell. But there was something hokey about the acoustics, so that as his voice bounced around the walls, it came to her as if he was breathing into her ears. It was unnerving. “As much as we place the focus there, it’s as much about sex as any relationship. It’s the glue that sticks us together, but at the same time…” He trailed off. She could tell he was smiling. There was a slight swish of cloth as she squeezed her legs together. It felt odd to be blindfolded while she was clothed. “At the same time, without everything else, the sex is meaningless. It’s boring, mundane, unexciting.” The words dripped off his tongue in a slow drawl, turning the phrase into an onomatopiea. He was a little closer now, but still a few metres away. “After all, what use it glue if there’s nothing to stick?” Closer still, close enough that she could probably touch him, if she was impudent enough to reach out. “Open.” The word was soft, barely able to carry a few feet, but he was close enough that it reached her ears. She blinked a few times behind the blindfold before she realised what he had asked, and her mouth fell open, lips ajar. The citrus hit her first, then the soft flesh of whatever fruit was resting on her tongue. She was good enough to know not to take it into her mouth without prompt, and after a moment he pushed it in and closed her lips for her, a firm grip on her jaw. “It’s just lucky for us that sex can be a part of everything else.” He murmured, before pressing his lips against her forehead, the stubble tickling her brow. -- source link
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