The Hunt: Good Morning

"Ohayo.”

 I hear his deep voice purring into my ear, barely louder than a whisper. It tickles, and I try to hide my smile by rolling over and burying my face into the pillows. It’s still early, so I pretend to sleep. His strong arms gently wrap around my waist and he pulls me close to him. He’s so warm, I forget it’s February.

His lips brush against the side of my neck, tracking a nibbled path up to my ear, which he bites with perfect pressure, coercing a restrained moan from me with minimal effort. Shit.

 “I knew it.” his warm breath caresses my ear, giving me goosebumps and his hands begin to wander, stroking my body until he’s kneading my breasts with his masterful touch.

He’s growling his language into my ear, casting a love spell. I don’t understand his words, but his intent begins to drip down my thighs and as the sun begins to rise over the mountains, I relinquish my control to him. Resistance is futile.

I roll over to look into his deep, darkest black eyes. I can fall into them forever. He smirks at me, pulling me so close, I can feel his long, dark lashes brushing my face when he kisses me. His long, black hair is loosely tied back before my hands find themselves combing through his raven locks, freeing them from the oppressive hairband that held them back.

 We giggle from under the blankets as our kisses deepen, playing a game with secret rules known only between the two of us. His kisses drip down to my chin, my neck and collarbone to my breasts where he slows down to take his time, toying with me like a kitten with a ball of yarn.

I hate and love how he takes command of me with such patience. It always starts off so innocently, that I feel like I have the option to resist, but it never ends that way. Suddenly he’s kissing back up toward my lips and I’m perturbed. As his eyes meet mine once again, his long black hair brushes gently against my skin and he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he just kisses my nose and sits up, releasing me, the ever oblivious prisoner with Stockholm syndrome, once again.

He doesn’t smile, but his eyes betray the game he is playing; and as he pulls the blankets back and begins to roll out of bed, I gently bite his bicep. Don’t go…

He fixes me with a tilted look of confusion. He knows he's got me in the palm of his hand, but his facial expressions aren’t proud or boastful; I know he’s got butterflies. He knows this dance between us is complex as all our fractured facets under the lens of a kaleidoscope, and his response isn’t unenthusiastic but measured. Not too eager, but willful. His hands grip my wrists, pinning them to the bed and his lips caress and kiss me all over, whispering secrets into my skin that may never leave this room.

My breathing has quickened, my cheeks are hot, his mouth on my nipples is beginning to affect the weather in other regions of my body, making the south particularly humid. I’m trying hard to restrain my moans. He’ll turn up the volume if he hears me. I try to stay quiet, but it just feels so. Fucking. Good.

Dammit, he heard me. The hunt is on. Now, he’s smiling a wicked smirk down at me that makes my body ache for him. He teases me with his tongue, kissing me deeply, slowly, pulling away while holding me down, rationing my portions. I writhe under his grip, becoming frustrated as my hips rise subconsciously to meet his. How does he do this to me?

 “Ho?” he purrs deeply into my ear, sounding like an anime villain “You’re approaching me? Instead of running away, you’re coming right. to. me?”

My body shudders with excitement under his grip and a moan slips out, betraying my true feelings. Noooo.

Now, I feel like a rabbit in the eyes of a wolf. His hands release my wrists and I wrap my arms around him as his hands make their way to my hips, caressing the round of my ass, and pulling me close. His lips are kissing and nibbling my ear and neck, between his dirty, trash-talking, Yakuza-tempered Japanese tone and I giggle as if I actually understand what he’s saying, he laughs too, breaking character momentarily, because apparently what he said was funny.

Then he looks into my eyes so intensely, my heart skips a beat and he strokes his hard, hot length between the wetness of my lips, giving me a taste of what’s to come.

Then I almost did. His fingers are tangled in my hair and mine in his as he kisses me deeply until I’m begging for more; chasing my desire like a cheetah after a gazelle. Slowly, deliberately, he sinks his teeth into my shoulder and his ship into my ocean. I gasp a moan, completely overwhelmed with desire, and he slows to a stop, not for fear of hurting me, but that it may be over too quickly.

While he shares his breath with me, kissing submerged under the deepest ocean, I catch my breath and he gives me a head start, for the sport of the hunt. He goes slow at first, like a predator stalking its prey in the tall grass, I can’t really string together thoughts at this point, let alone words, because my inhibitions are dissipating entirely. At the end of every pump, I fall a little deeper into the rhythm of his stroke, until he’s got me hooked like the big catch. I’m submissive as a lamb in the jaws of a lion. He kisses my neck again, so warm, so close. I close my eyes and the chase intensifies, his speed picks up and his strokes shorten. I’m short of breath, I can’t breathe.

As if reading my mind, his lips connect with mine in a dance of tongues that I’m convinced has saved my life while my moans are growing more desperate by the second.

 “I’m gonna come!” I whisper between kisses, intending it as a warning, more than an announcement...

But he’s not done with me yet. He slows to a stop before pulling out and with a sweet slap to my ass, he commands me to roll over. I obey.

 I’m on my hands and knees, facing away from him. I can see him behind me in the full-length mirror propped against the far wall, and he leans down, his gorgeous silk black hair, caressing my back, before he plants a kiss to the nape of my neck gathering my hair into his taut grip with a small, yet, commanding yank that causes my body to shudder uncontrollably. I whine with desperation, as my hips back into him, demanding more.

He takes his time, once again, unhurried, no rush, slowly filling my demand with his abundant supply. He controls the pace. He controls the depth. He controls the speed and I’m soaking him with gratitude for his expertise. My moans are like the taunt of a whale from the deep blue- Moby Dick luring Captain Ahab to his inevitable downfall.

I open my eyes a moment, to see his lovely face in the mirror’s reflection, eyes closed, immersed in the throes of passion, his control barely hanging on by a thread. So, he’s not totally immune to my charms.

The eastern morning sunlight spilled through the window over our bed, illuminating him with warmth and causing him to glow and glisten whenever his muscles flexed; focused on his goal, steadily hunting down his quarry. His hand gripping my hair, pulled at me slightly, until I was arching my back, feeding his hungry thrust with eager tempo to match. He slapped my ass. I cried out in ecstasy, so close. This hunt was about to come to a grand finale, and he chased me right to the edge. The peak. The precipice. His hand holding my hair gradually slackened, and in that moment, my moans grew loud as he smashed the final drive, like the first tee in golf. My hands clenched at the blankets as I threw my head back, falling over the edge…

Just...

Like...

This...

“Oh my God!” we shouted in unison.

I went down with a thud. Somewhat embarrassed, but mostly surprised. I couldn’t help but laugh as he scrambled to join me, on the floor, apologizing profusely and asking if I was okay.


 “I’m fine.” I assured him between giggling; getting a relieved chuckle from him as well.

“Yokatta!” he replied, nuzzling my nose sweetly.

“I can’t believe you kicked me out of bed!” I laughed.

“Rest assured, Arashi- The only reason I’d ever kick you out of bed is to fuck on the floor.”

Our eyes met and my heartbeat quickened as he leaned down to kiss me. And much to my delight the hunt began, once again.