little games we play

pasta.

you can smell it in the air when you let yourself in.

you don't know whether to smile, or be worried.

"baby is that you?"

"its the Grim..or your italian lover"

she laughs...a light little tinkle..

you smile now, its good to be back home. she walks in, barefoot, gods you love her barefoot, there is always some vulnerability with naked feet. maybe you just have a foot kink. but you love it.

even more when she smiles like that, and literally drapes herself over you like that..a soft live warm blanket. so fucking soft. she holds on a little bit too tight, she smells like vanilla ice cream and warm coffee. 

" i miss you, go take a bath. you smell horrible" she whispers.

"i missed you too." 

its a lovely bath, peach scented candles, lavender bath salts.

definitely something to worry about. 

she is being too nice, granted, you haven't been home in three weeks...but you have been gone for longer, and you know she hasn't been lonely.

"did i forget something?"

 you ask as you walk into the kitchen, to a set table, you were right,

pasta, some fancy sauce, and more candles,

groan. dammit, you forgot an important date, what stupid thing are you meant to remember right now.

she smiles again, tilts her head to the right, just as she knows, you like it. her red curls escape from her messy bun. its good to be back home.

" you know, if i was bad, i would make you think that, just so i can get an expensive gift from you, say, like those thigh high boots we saw-"

she breaks off and looks at you quizzically, as you attempt to keep a bland face.

" what boots?"

her smile turns feral, it would have scared you five years ago, when all your games were meant to wound, unlike now, when all your games are mischievous and naughty. she knows...she knows you know she knows that you might have gotten her those ridiculously expensive shoes.

the ones that make her look like sex on a stick. milla fucking jovovich in a battleship.

"babe...where are you hiding them?"

..."i dont know what you are talking about"

"umph, fine. sit down and eat then."

the meal was lovely, she is an amazing cook. if it wasn't for clothes, she would have been a sight n the kitchen, in her white uniform and spatula, that thought is disturbingly arousing.

your favorite place in the whole flat, is your study, because of the smell of your books, the dark wood and antique lamps you have randomly placed on top of dusty books. and the fireplace at the corner of the room. it reminds you of the dreams you both had, especially now, when you are sitted on your warm armchair and she is curled up on your lap, reading from the same book, with an expensive bottle of wine perched on the arm rest. remember when all you had was a little studio apartment, and the only wine you could afford was cheap and came from a box? remember working six different jobs between the two of you and intrusively cold mornings? remember the tears, and the fights, and good Lord the make up sex on the roof top.

it seems like a lifetime ago...candlelit dinner from a box, on the floor. when you would dream of what you have now.

she snuggles closer.

urgh, this is too fucking domestic for your taste. 

"kitty, there's something i got you, go find it"

you tell yourself you just want her off your lap. its true. ofcourse. 

you only cuddle after particularly good sex.

she scrambles off and throws you one of those gods-so-sexy smirks and leaves. like she knows something you dont. you hate her sometimes.

she yells your name. really yells it. fuck if she doesn't like it. its impossible to please her. 

you walk into the room and you find yourself an armful of horny willing woman..all wet lips and roving hands.

you knew she would like it. who was worried, definitely not you. pssht.

back to the woman trying to suck your soul through your mouth. when she kisses you like this, like she cant live without her mouth fastened on yours, you think maybe perhaps you dont hate her...especially when she whimpers just like that, presses you into the wall just like so, slips her hands into your pants just there..moans into your ear-

"i missed you, fuck...i want you"

you laugh, because dammit...its well worth it that you spent an insane amount of money on a Jean Paul Gaultier red jacket that she knows you know goes well with the boots you 'didnt-get-her'

she is materialistic...and thank heavens you can both afford to spend money on stupid expensive gifts for each other, you want to think of the customized gold little ball with wings she got you last month, but she pulls away...and oh gods, pulls off her top. you fucking missed being home.

....in bed, all nimble fingers, tangled legs and bruised lips, and she's panting, and she's moaning, and she's twisting around on top of you like that..and she lowers her head and her ass like that...and you have handfuls of soft round ass.

"baby...fuck...gods, baby.."

 she always jokes that you only call her baby when you want something or both of you have your heads buried in wet places.

she laughs.

and oh God, the tremors, through her tongue fastened on that little engorged point, and its all you can think about....getting off, and she holds your hips like that, and you hold her ass like that, and you cant get enough...and she tenses, and you can feel it, oh shit, and somehow, she does more, and it gets better..and you are out of your mind, and she's fucking you..and you fucking her...her mouth, your mouth, and she screams.........

you always wake up for a morning run on weekends, but dammit, after an 11hour flight, you deserve to sleep in on weekends.

...you wake up alone though, its okay, who gives a fuck. not you, obviously.

shower, warm, abit oversensitive at places, it was a good night.

you try not to be surprised when you walk into the kitchen and find her sitted on the counter going through your mail. naked. red boots.

with the sunlight streaming in like that, making her hair shine just a little bit, it overwhelms you a little bit.

you both know,

but you pretend you dont.

its these little games you play, 

you pretend she doesn't matter

she pretends she doesn't know that you would never break her heart.

you both pretend you can come and go as you please.

but when the sun is just right,

and she smiles at you, so shy, and dammit, tilts her head like that,

and your heart beats like so, 

and you smile back just like that,

and you walk to her,

and kiss her just like that..slow, tender,

..you both know, its the games you play..

she opens her eyes,

"what was that for?"

shrug.

"just because.."

"yeah?"

"yeah."

"do it again then.."

and you do