white blank page | Maria & Bruce


           He shouldn’t have left, he shouldn’t have –      his mind berates him on a loop as he sinks into Maria’s touches, sinks into the gentle ministrations of her fingers that tickle his skin and ignite something deeper. His hands grasp along her spine, shifting steadily downwards while he tries to keep them from digging in too hard, firm pressure to keep him grounded as the sweeping release of uncertainty leaves behind a promising tension. 

Maria shifts under his arms, pulling her head away, and he tilts his head to meet hers as he tries to bring the rest of them closer, meets her lips as he curls his fingers under her belt; a soft moan escapes from the bottom of his throat when she pulls away, and he shakes his head in answer, pressing his forehead against hers. 

                “You’re the only one I wanted to see.”

   He’d come and seen, found the coals of the relationship he’d struggled to leave behind carefully banked in the sand. He’s grateful they’re here, a little dusty and rusty but here, smoldering in his chest with a heat he imagines radiating back at him from Maria. 

It’s still there, the breathless taut string of mutual want and quickly fading patience – he should have left with her, at the Casino, and the memory of their last encounter has his head tipping away from hers, temple brushing her jawline as his lips press against the soft skin that runs along the line of her neck. Unlike the Casino, there isn’t a party on the other side of the wall waiting for them – 

          How easily the scales are tipped, from coolly balanced resolve to something more immediate, more frenetic. Any doubts manifested in the last few months are buried beneath the fact that he’s here, right now, and it occurs to her that she might’ve been wrong in her assumptions about where they’d left things. Hands at her spine, gentle pressure forcing her closer and she’s happy to give up the distance.

His mouth is at her throat and her pulse jumps, one hand digging into the cord of muscle at one side of his spine and she arcs slightly into the touch, rising gently forward onto the balls of her feet. She tilts her head back, exposing more of her throat and it’s apparent to her in this sudden rush of warm desire just how much she’d missed him, missed whatever it was their relationship had the potential to be and Maria sucks in air near his ear.

                     “Stay-” It comes out midway between a question and a command, quiet with a slight uptick at the end. The word she’d refused to say that morning he’d slipped quietly out of her apartment and then the country. Stay, stay. Fingers move through the curls at the base of his neck, a little overdue for a haircut, and she begins to maneuver them into a rotation- a turn that would be her back toward the bedroom door at the other end of the apartment.

     Her hand comes around to rest at his jaw, the other providing an encouraging pressure at his back while taking a few steps in the reverse.


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