Everything Butt!

He stood to the side of his bed looking over at the woman strewn across it. He was in disbelief that someone so gorgeous would be laying there on his bed, wearing just her matching black lingerie. He was about to lift his shirt off, but hesitated.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

He breathed deeply. ‘My dad bod,’ he replied meekly.

‘Oh my god, seriously?’ She was almost giggling. ‘Let me be the judge of that. Get it off.’

He paused for a moment, but then noticed the honesty in both her voice and her expression. He felt every one of his forty years as he slipped his top over his head, intoxicated just enough to not bother sucking in his belly. The beers and the years had taken their toll, but he wanted to start this with honesty.

She laughed. As she had done for all the hours preceding. Honestly, whole heartedly. Some would say maniacally like a witch, but he thought it was cute. True emotions were rare these days, regardless of what they were. ‘That,’ she said when her laughter subsided, ‘that is not a dad bod. Come here.’

He followed her signalling fingers, crawled into her open arms. Her body was hot, in both ways. His arms wrapped around her waist, his lips to hers. Her remarks were genuine, and she showed her appreciation with her hands and her mouth.

She wondered how she could get so lucky. Funny, smart, devilishly good looking. Somehow this George Clooney lookalike despised himself so much he had lowered himself to her level.

He couldn’t understand how an angel like her was so receptive to him. Sure, he’d made her laugh, even managed to completely be himself. When she introduced herself as Lana, he’d even made a joke about her name played out backwards, and she didn’t freak out, in fact she laughed and high fived him. Crass humour is so hit or miss.

She felt his hands fumble and undo her bra, tossing it aside. Her hands whipped up to cover herself. She apologised for her deflated breasts, he moved her hands aside and kissed them, savoured them, devoured them. She let herself indulge in the moment.

He couldn’t believe the night. His mind disallowed the reality, the dream he was living. He wasn’t himself, or he was the ultimate version of himself. One of her favourite songs had come on hours earlier and when she asked him to dance, he didn’t hesitate. He cared not for the watching eyes or cameras, just to live in the moment. For a change. Twirling her, feeling her rhythm. Just as he did now.

She pressed herself against him. She longed to move forward, progress the evening to the next stage, while simultaneously wanting to linger in each and every moment. She couldn’t help her arching back as his tongue travelled south of her breasts. When he reached her stomach she stopped him.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

‘What for?’

‘My scars.’ They were hard words to put out in the open. She knew how this played out; with judgement. His eyes widened, as did his smile.

‘This?’ he said, tracing his finger along a small scar on her belly.

She tried to resist her stomach flinching in the spotlight. ‘One of my babies didn’t want to come out the natural way.’

He looked up at her from her flat belly. ‘And that’s why there’s  no apology needed. For any reason, really,’ he added. He saw the look on her face, she wasn’t buying it. He regarded her for a moment, and then propped himself up on his knees. He pointed to the two deep scars just above his waist. ‘Bone grafts,’ he said before flexing his right leg forward. ‘But that’s nothing on this.’

She looked at his leg, the knobby scarred tissue consuming half his leg. She ran her fingers along the bumps and dimples. ‘What is this?’

‘I nearly died in a motor accident. This here is my thigh tissue.’ She regarded the skin even more thoroughly. He couldn’t feel the touch; the nerve endings had never rebuilt themselves.

‘Your scars came from giving life,’ he said, ‘As mine saved my life.’

She kissed his scar, then pulled him close for a kiss on the lips.

From that moment, they moved on, indulging and engorging themselves upon one another. Explorative and passionate, savouring each and every moment before the breaking dawn stole them from their reveries. She didn’t know what he was doing with his fingers, beyond that if felt amazing, as he felt when she took him within her mouth.

As the morning sun crept through the curtains, dappled and broken, he wrapped his arms around her. Their naked bodies pressed close. He still couldn’t believe this angel had shared his bed with him. Which was when he heard her exhales, sleeping, snoring, dribbling slightly along his arm. He pulled her closer, kissed her neck, and fell asleep wondering what angels dreamt of.

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