You're Gonna Keep My Soul

She pulls me into her arms, my skin to hers, and I bury my head deep into her neck. I can't describe how much I want to be held, need to be held. She brushes my hair back and kisses my neck so tenderly, from my earlobe down to my clavicle. I find my breath and suck the air in deeply. It feels heavy in my lungs, a stark contrast to the softness of her lips. I realize with a jolt that this moment is the first in nearly nineteen hours that my whole body hasn't been tense, clenched. Her fingertips run the length of my back, and I melt into her, unable and unwilling to hold myself up.

"I don't want or expect anything from you," she whispers sweetly in my ear. "I'm just kissing on you."

I purr deep, gutteral. "I know." I reach up and pull her head down to me, her lips into mine, and I kiss her deeply. I run my hand down her side, across her ass, down her thigh, back up to her hipbone. I wrap my leg around her hers and pull her down into me.

"It's kind of nice to do something life affirming." I whisper in her ear. I roll onto my back, find her hand in mine, and guide her fingers to my clit. "Oh, God," she moans, and I silence her with a kiss.

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Nineteen hours ago we had been in this same bed, dead asleep, when I awoke to the sound of her phone. At first, I though her alarm was ringing, hours too early. But I shook off the heavy film of exhaustion to realize it was a phone call. She half-rose, pulling the screen to her face.

"Who is it?"

When she answered, my heart filled with dread.

She got off the phone and fell back, hard, into the pillow. I slid over to her side of the bed, wrapped my arm around her waist, and spooned her body. She entangled her fingers into mine, and we lay there, the gravity of the situation sinking in. All I could feel was raw shock. Pain. Fear. Dulled by a sense of exhaustion, a sense of expectation. Everything was about to change.

I kissed the tattoo at the base of her neck and closed my eyes for just a moment. Please, please, please, let this all be a nightmare. Let us wake up, I pleaded.

I cleared every thought from my head, pulled her tighter, and took a breath. The warmth of her body. The softness of her skin. The curls in her hair. I wanted one moment to absorb her, one moment before I hauled myself out of bed, pulled together a day's worth of work and clothes and other necessities, and raced toward the emergency room.

"This is going to be a long week." The words fell out of my mouth. "I can feel it now."

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She twirls circles around my clit, and I bury my face into her neck to muffle my moans. I can feel my body warming up under her touch, my clit soaking wet, but I still feel disconnected, my head floating in and out of the moment. I try to focus, try to quiet my mind and let myself disappear into her touch.

"Fuck me. Please." She kisses me again, slides two fingers into my cunt, and almost immediately I realize there is little she can do for me right now. I crave the kind of soul-splitting orgasm that would suck the strength out of every muscle in my body. I crave power, almost to the point of pain. She pounds her palm against me now, but I am more disconnected than ever.

"Would you..." I struggle to pull the words together, to ask for what I want. It's always takes work, pushing through the anxiety and the walls to really say what I mean. I feel too emotionally weak to fight it, but I know her answer would be affirming.

"Would you... let me sit in your lap and get off on the vibrator?" My voice came out so softly, I wasn't sure it was my own.

"Of course."

She sits up, propping her legs, and I sit between her thighs, my back against her chest, and open my own thighs into hers. I feel small against her, cradled within her. I pull the Hitachi into my clit and immediately my nerves begin to twitch and fire. I rock against her, and she pulls my head to the side, roughly, and bites right into the muscular side of my neck. A moan leaps from deep inside me. She runs her fingernails across my skin, up my sides, down the inside of my thighs, and I'm almost crawling out of my skin, the sensations are so vivid and strong across my body. The Hitachi is too strong for me, but I push it into my labia, against my clit, absorbing the powerful vibrations and letting myself ride the nervous pounding. She is clawing me almost, biting and pulling at my neck, my shoulders, my arms. The nerves are shooting off all over my body, distracting me from how strong the vibrator is, the thin line of pain and pleasure in my cunt. I can't keep a rhythm. It feels like miniature fireworks are shooting across my body, a hundred origins, a thousand sparks.

My mind begins to flash images. I'm in the ER waiting room, again, under those unforgiving florescent lights. I'm walking around the hospital building, and the wind is slamming through three layers of cotton and right into my bones. I'm driving in my car, a block from school, and tears are streaming down my cheeks. I'm hearing his voice, rubbing his back, and I can't believe the words coming out of his mouth.

Her fingernails in my chest distract me again, bring me back down, out of my head. I'm here, and she's moaning in my ear. I'm ejaculating again; the Hitachi almost rubbing my cunt raw. My thighs are twitching out of my control. She's pinching deep into my nipple. I've probably been moaning, though I'm not really sure by this point.

"Stop, just for a moment." I pull her arm around my shoulders. "Just let me focus." She stops biting, clawing, obligingly, and pulls me tight into her.

"Are you going to come for me?" There's a hint of domination in her voice, and I like it.

"Yes. Are you going to let me?" I twitch again, still riding, still rocking, still shaking. I want to be defiant, but I'm too caught up in the physical sensation. My voice comes out compliant, submissive, small.

"I'll tell you when you can." In the dark my muscles tighten.

I shut off everything in my mind. Block out the images of the day. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Just the raw heat of my clit. Each. Nerve. Ending. I zero in, my whole body bound around this nerve bundle. I can feel the heat rising across my hips, up my stomach, seeping into my thighs. Building. Climbing. Ascending. I'm sucking in air, half-moaning, half groaning.

"Are you ready?" I didn't expect this question, but I don't care.

"Almost."

I can feel the heat of her breath on my neck, the sound of the air as she expelled it across my ear lobe. My clit has become so sensitive that every second is bordering on pain. But the intensity drives me. I want it. I crave it.

"Ok..." I let my voice rise, slowly building up to a higher octave with each moan.

"Come for me." She's urging, pushing, whispering right next to my earlobe. "Come for me, baby."

I close my eyes and concentrate in, deeper and deeper. The pain is searing. My moans stop, unprompted, and I find that instead I'm whimpering, pulling internal, connecting in. My body explodes into an orgasm, but instead of passing through, I'm riding on the waves spreading down to my fingertips, contracting every inch of muscle and skin and bone.

My body goes limp, still reverberating and twitching sporadically from the sensitivity of my nerves. I drop the wand. My head falls onto her arm, and she pulls in close around me. I feel like a child, wrapped in the warmth and security of her arms. I feel raw, vulnerable, empty. I almost want to cry. She would get it. No one else would, I doubt, but right now, in this day and this time, she would understand. But the catharsis is so great that I don't have it left in me to cry. The strength of my orgasm, the intensity of her body wrapped around me, her experience wound into mine, has pushed out so much of the pain.

I can feel her heart beating out of her chest, against my back. I can feel my own, pounding. This is life. This is force and beauty and healing. I can't save the world. I can't save him from himself. I can't do it all. But even in crisis, even in fear, there's still hope, there's still healing. There is pain and pleasure and the sunlight glinting through the Oak trees.

For minutes that feel like hours, I lie there, cradled in her body and heart, until I can gather the strength to move again. I pull myself out of her lap and drop the Hitachi on the floor. She lies down next to me, spread across the bed.

"What can I do for you?" She asks.

"Let me hold you."

I push my nose into her neck. I turn toward her, on my side. I pull her toward me, and she slides down the bed, putting her head into my chest, her chest to my stomach. My arms become expansive as I wrap one arm across her shoulders, down her back, and the other arm under her head.  pulling her deep into my arms. I'm shorter, smaller, and yet she fits like a puzzle piece. I kiss her on the forehead, on the nose, on the cheek, on the lips, and twirl her hair through my fingers.

"I wanted to hold you all day today," she whispers into me. "But I didn't realize how much I wanted to be held by you."

I'm grateful for the chance to hold her, to heal her, as she has done for me. She feels so good in my arms.