The Rush.

My eyelids were heavy. Early morning light filtered in through the barely shuttered window of the living room and drifted lazily to our bedroom, casting eerie shadows. Even still, wakefulness found me despite my profound want to remain asleep.


He was breathing deeply beside me. A quick mental canvass of the day’s events to follow drew a rather spiteful curl to my lips as I recalled what day of the week it was, realizing that he’d the entire day off. It was time.. for payback. For justice.


The cruel man had decided to, while I was listening to some music, suddenly yank one of my headphones from my ear the night prior. Familiar warmth then pressed against my cheek, and before I could utter a word of protest, there it was.


That sweet, delectable, oddly calming thrum pressing against my ear. Knocking against his ribs to greet me.


Though I’d shoved him away, stammering in protest, my cheeks flushed undoubtedly a charming shade of pink.. the damage had been done. Such an evil thing to do, but even at the recollection of the mischievous deed, well.. I couldn’t help but desire more of that sweet sound pressed directly to my ear.


My mind flitted back to the early morning light that filled the otherwise pitch-black room, my sly grin returning to my lips. I crawled a bit closer to him on the bed – he’d conveniently slept on his back, the unsuspecting wretch! – and placed my ear directly to the apex of his chest, sighing contentedly.


The rush of air entering and leaving his lungs seemed to whisper charming secrets, but none were so enticing as the sweet throb, the ebb and flow of the very fluid that gave him life. It was the perfect morning treat, much more melodic to me than the hymn of a chirping songbird. Calm, steady, even.. my lips barely moving as I counted each delectable beat. Seventy five.. seventy six. Wonderfully slow and indicative of his intense relaxation, but soon…


Hearing wasn’t enough. Not near enough. My greedy fingertips crawled over his ribs, ghosting lightly over his skin as gently as possible as to avoid waking him. I slid my palm to rest just over his mitral area, and it took an act of extreme restraint to bite back the pleased, intoxicated cry of private glee. I bit it back behind my lower lip and gnawed at it. Steady and even, thumping against my skin, and yet..


Faster. I must make it faster.


My breathing shallow with want, I knew exactly what I needed to do in order to gain sweet victory. My fingertips began a slow crawl southward, creeping along his ribs, down the median of his body to rest at a hip. It wasn’t often he slept clothed regardless, and I’d been so lucky as to catch him on one such occasion. I loosed a trembling exhale as my fingertips inched slowly inward, curling gingerly around his flaccid length while my ear remained pressed to his apex, my attention fixated to any shift in the speed of the hypnotizing beat.


He stirred lightly, muttered to himself, but made no move to wake. Good. I secured my grip around him, relishing the way the slow, friendly thud of his pulse seemed to echo into the slowly hardening flesh warming my palm. I began to stroke lightly, my grip quite loose and meant merely to tease.


How effective it was! His breath caught in his throat and – as he inhaled, it skipped! Another harsh bite to my lip followed as I fought to hold back a yearning whimper, and a noticeable gallop had crept into the previous lazy-but-quite-thumpy rhythm. I sighed hotly. Ohhhh, this.. this was heaven.

-- by eviscerati, Jan 19 2015. ( source )