Soft

He touched my cheek, my jaw, my neck, his fingers trailing down my chest softly. Everything he does is soft, even when it leaves bruises. It’s soft not always in the tactile sense, but because he breathes it in and enjoys not just the actions, but the emotion of the moment, and wants his sub to enjoy them even more.

But his fingers on my neck were soft in a tactile way tonight, almost tickling, making me turn my face up to him, hair falling away from my eyes as he grabs my hand. I lowered them, instinctively. His domination is soft and thick around a girl, holding her in that place between pleasure and pain. It’s a place I want to be.

His voice is soft too, not in a quiet or weak way, but in a way that reminds me of velvet or heavy cream or a muggy summer day when you’re in the woods and the insects are buzzing and a light, hot drizzle is falling on your face. His soft voice wrapped around me, telling me to look at him, into his eyes, and admit things that I’m not quite ready to admit.

It’s not easy for me to do; it’s never been easy for me to do. When I look into his eyes, I’m humbled and it makes me blush. It makes my heart want to burst, as cliche as that sounds, like I just can’t hold in all that I feel, and don’t know all that I feel. Maybe it’s a good thing that I don’t know how I feel, that this thing called love isn’t the same as I’ve felt in the past. Maybe it isn’t love at all.

But maybe it is. Maybe it means I get to find love for the first time with someone. Maybe I’m a love virgin, and if I should be so lucky to let the feelings burst out of me, it’ll be something unlike anything I could have ever imagined. Maybe. Maybe something soft.

But for now, I’m staring into his eyes, and into the future. And for once, I let it go. I’ve always been a planner, someone concerned about when things are going to happen and how to solve problems and what the outcome will be. I have to let it go, the possibilities I see for the future. I have to allow things to just happen how they will happen and be happy that he’s here today, looking into my eyes and holding my hand and caring about my day.

This post has said everything I’ve wanted to say, and at the same time, nothing at all.