Page 28 of Ezekiel
“What are you doing?” she asked, eyes wide and confused. I ran my thumb along the crease between her brows, smiling down at her.
“It’s called aftercare. It is important, after any kink, or even just sex, to offer your partner care. There are many reasons for it, but ultimately, caring for your partner in the aftermath of a sensual experience gives both partners a sense of peace,” I explained. My hands cupped her face, searching her eyes, before I leaned down to kiss her. I didn’t kiss people. It wasn’t a thing for me. Yet, I couldn’t stop myself from doing just that, time and time again, it seemed.
I felt her lips curl up into a smile against my own. I tilted her head back as our lips parted, helping to wet her hair in the stream of water. She inhaled deeply, letting the warm water soothe her. This was an aspect of kink that I rarely got to truly indulge in. Most of the time, aftercare consisted of water, a small snack, and talking through what had happened during the scene. Being able to truly give this level of care came with the deeper relationships in kink, at least it had for me.
“I want you to be honest with me, Talia. After any of our time together, whether it is just sex, playtime, or anything else, I need you to tell me what you need or want. It takes time to learn what you like or what you may want. And it will take time for us to learn those things about each other. All I ask is for you to be open and honest with me, okay? I need that in order to move forward in our play,” I explained.
“I can make that promise, Zeke,” she whispered. God, she was beautiful. The heat of the water sluicing over the curves and valleys of her body had given her skin a beautiful rose color. I wanted to follow each drop with my tongue, tasting her essence and exploring her intimately. For the moment, I settled for pouring shampoo into my hand, lathering it into her hair slowly. I massaged her scalp, chuckling when she groaned in satisfaction.
“That feels incredible,” she groaned. “Why are you laughing?” she asked, one eyebrow quirking up in question though her eyes remained closed.
“You make the same noises during sex,” I admitted in a gently teasing voice. She blushed brilliantly, covering her face with her hands. I used the motion to tilt her head back, rinsing the suds from her long hair.
“That feels so good,” she groaned again. This time, when she lifted her head, I kissed her square on the nose. I don’t know why. It just happened. Her nose scrunched up adorably.
“You feel so good,” I retorted. I lathered her loofah in the warm water, then began gently running the sponge over her shoulders and down each arm in turn. She was languid, almost putty in my hands, as I washed her body with care. She deserved such care. I needed to be the man who could provide it for her.
When my hands moved over her breasts, she hissed.
“Are you alright? Was I too rough?” I asked, concern marring my features.
“Quite the opposite. They are still really sensitive. But you were not too rough,” she explained, looking up at me, her lower lip caught between her teeth. I continued washing down her body, taking special care of every inch of skin until she was well and clean.
As the suds rinsed from her body, I hung the loofah back up. My hands followed the trails of water pouring over her, cupping her breasts and feeling their weight in my hands.
“I can’t seem to stop touching you,” I murmured, more to myself than to her.
“Then never stop,” she whispered, pulling my face towards her with gentle hands and claiming my lips with her own. We kissed slowly, sensually, simply exploring one another with lips and tongue and teeth. I pulled her close to me, her body pressed against mine. She fit against me like a puzzle piece, her softness meeting my firm body in perfect juxtaposition.
“My turn,” she muttered against my lips. I didn’t have a moment to wonder at her meaning before she was turning us in the shower until I stood beneath the shower’s steaming spray. The heat soothed my aching muscles, and I tossed my head back, wetting my hair, running my fingers through the closely shorn curls.
She returned the favor, soaping up my loofah and running the suds over my body slowly. I watched with fascination as she explored my body with a gentleness I had never experienced before. Her touch was soft, light. I held my breath, unable to think straight as this small woman stood before me, touching me with an intimacy that was unknown to me. Her fingertips ran over the ridges of my abdomen, tracing every line and mark she found along the way. When I turned around, those same fingertips traced each line of my tattoo. I was floored by the moment, my mind blank and my breathing near labored under the weight of the emotions she evoked within me.
I turned back around, washing the suds off.
“I can’t reach your hair,” she admitted shyly. I grinned, kneeling down in the water’s spray, giving her the space she needed. As her fingers threaded through my hair, her nails scratching lightly at my scalp, my hands found her skin again. I ran them up the long lines of her body, finding her waist and keeping myself steady. I pressed a kiss right there, above her navel, and she giggled, the sound like tinkling bells. It was such an innocent moment, washing one another. Innocent and yet beyond intimate. I pressed kisses along any expanse of skin I could reach, moving upwards until I could take one of her hardened nipples into my mouth once more. She groaned gloriously.
“You’re making it difficult to concentrate,” she playfully chided.
“Try harder,” I retorted, my lips wrapping themselves around her stiff peaks and sucking until she arched into my touch. She washed my hair, tilting my head back to rinse the soap away, but as my lips left her skin, I let my fingers trail up between her thighs.
“Zeke,” she gasped.
“Just feel, Angel,” I whispered, my fingers delving between her soft folds to find the nub of her clit. I kissed her stomach again, wrapping an arm around her to give her stability as my fingers worked magic between her thighs. She was so wet, so soft, and so inviting; her warmth calling to me. My cock hardened again, wanting nothing more than to be buried in her pussy again.
“Zeke, yes,” she groaned, her hips thrusting into my fingers, greedy for my touch. She came quickly, squeezing around my fingers and shuddering above me.
“I want to make you cum all the time,” I whispered against her skin.
“I want to do the same to you,” she admitted. I looked up at her, watching as she flushed red.
“Tell me,” I urged her, wanting to hear what was going on in that head of hers. Her hands tugged on my shoulders, encouraging me to stand. I pulled myself up, inwardly groaning at the ache in my knees from kneeling on the tiled shower floor. “Tell me, please.”
“Um…” she began, chewing on her lower lip in nervousness. “I’d rather show you.”
Fuck me!I nodded my consent and watched in amazement as the little siren of a woman dropped to her knees before me. She looked nervous, unsure of what to do.
“Kiss me. Touch me. Do whatever feels right. There is no wrong answer here, except when it comes to teeth,” I teased. She lowered her head, kissing the hollow of my hipbone. My cock jumped in response, already seeking the warmth of her mouth.
