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Describing what was going on was difficult. Conscious thought receded as Tiler landed kiss after kiss on skin that tingled soon after contact, stoking lust that radiated outward in waves of heat, as Jia felt her breath hitch and catch on her throat. I need words to remember this. Words I should try to gather, soon, to write all of this down, so that when I’m old and grey and nodding by the fire, as Yeats wrote once, I’ll take down that book, and slowly read, and dream of the soft look her eyes hold now, and of (sorry Mr. Yeats) her passion deep. Will you still be around, then, to read that book with me Tiler? I hope so. Please. Please. Please, Tiler, be there and never leave.
Nearly two hours ago, they’d crashed through the door of the first bedroom they’d found after using the keys Aerin had tossed at Tiler so that they could unlock the sliding doors to the second floor. They’d haphazardly grabbed at each other’s clothing, but Tiler had been barely able to stand. She’d mumbled about feeling sleepy, overcome by exhaustion. Sounds from the party still going strong downstairs were muffled and then completely shut out as Jia closed the door. A confused series of actions followed: Tiler pointing at the bed, and Jia being nudged in that direction, then falling on the bed first, followed by Tiler, who’d collapsed on top of her. Amidst the still and darkness of the room, Tiler drifted off to sleep enveloped in a warm, welcome body-embrace from Jia. Stars in the night sky visible through the bedroom windows flickered on and off lazily, adding to a timeless hush and quiet in the room.
Jia had slipped out from under a lightly snoring Tiler, to use the bathroom, confused by what had happened. She’d washed her hands and splashed cold water on her face, reconciled to the reality that Tiler was not waking. She’d crept back to bed, unbuckled her “blade” and then had laid next to the sleeping stud. Confused about how quickly things had changed, she looked long and hard at the sleeping figure faced-down and spread-eagled on the bed. At length, she’d reached out automatically to caress the broad, muscular flanks of her back. Never did sleep wrapped in a sexy human look so good. As she brushed Tiler’s bangs off of her face, tucking the longest strands over a well-shaped ear, she sighed again. Without the magnetism of those deep blue eyes holding her captive, the rest of Tiler’s features in repose had rearranged themselves into a sweetness and unguarded innocence, akin to a baby’s, not at all the veneer of a swaggering stud. Surely, at long last, this is a lover who wouldn’t hurt me, Jia had thought to herself, leaning forward to tenderly kiss Tiler’s forehead. Shortly thereafter she’d fallen asleep, too.