Heart and Sunlight Ch. 05

I walk home that afternoon, and the hot sun sinks its teeth into my shoulders. I hop between pools of shade until I make it back to my building. I want to see Daza, but I go to my own unit first and change into a loose button-down. I let it sink in that I spent a delicious night with Alicia, and the first thing I want to do is share it with Daza. I pause for a minute, breathing into my belly, relishing the warm relaxation. Then I go to Daza's unit and knock on the door.

They answer after a moment, a smile lighting up their face when they open the door. The first thing I notice, though, is the dark circles under their eyes.

"What's wrong? Did you not sleep well last night?" I ask, crossing the threshold. I wrap my arms around their frame and feel their body heat through my clothes.

Daza embraces me, buries their face in my hair and breathes in slowly before answering. "No, I didn't sleep much. It was one of those nights."

"What's wrong?"

"Anxiety. This weather makes me worry."

"I'm sorry. I know."

We hug for a long minute, rocking slightly back and forth, before we let go. "I'm happy to see you again. I don't have much energy today, can we sit down?"

I get us some water, and Daza falls into the couch by the window. I curl up next to them and guide their head onto my chest. Daza's eyes slowly close, and I run my fingers gently through their hair.

"Can I tell you something?" I say to Daza.

"Mhm," they reply softly.

"I slept with my friend Alicia last night."

Daza opens their eyes and looks up at me. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes," I say.

They smile. "I'm so happy to hear it. It's special when you can have that kind of connection with a good friend."

I take their hand and squeeze it gently. "Daza, I'm worried. You look more tired than I would expect after one night of bad sleep. How are you doing?"

"Don't worry, I'm alright," they say.

"I want to know more about you."

They flip their hand so it's holding mine. "I really am okay, it's just that I'm often fatigued like this. It's a condition I've had for a few years now. I had to adjust the parameters of my life, and I was frustrated and depressed at first. It can be difficult, but I've mostly learned to live with it now. It means that I need to rest a lot, though."

"Thank you for sharing that, Daza," I say. We're quiet for a minute, and I can hear a lone bird calling outside the window. I watch Daza's face, their eyes still closed, and let my gaze wander down the side of their neck, their chest slowly rising and falling, their hips. I remember what it felt like to press against their body earlier.

"I can hear your heartbeat speeding up. What's wrong?" Daza asks.

My cheeks get warm. "Nothing," I say. "I was thinking about us yesterday."

"Yesterday was nice."

"It was."

Daza moves their hand up my arm, tracing lightly, then squeezing. "I want to do more with you."

"We have time. We don't need to rush."

They move their hand to my shoulder, then graze my collarbone. "I want to take my time with you."

It's like those words flip a switch inside me. I immediately feel the heat between my legs. "That sounds good," I say, and I mean it to sound sultry but my voice shakes a little with the sudden desire.

There are paintbrushes on the table near the couch. Daza takes one and dips it in the water. "Close your eyes. Focus on this." I gasp as I feel a cold touch on my upper arm, soft as a feather. I realize it's the paintbrush. They draw it up and down my arm in long strokes, and I feel goosebumps rise on my skin. With their other hand they unbutton my shirt and slide it off my shoulders. I have nothing on underneath. My eyes are closed, but I know my nipples are hard. I let out a moan is Daza paints the cool water up my arm and onto my chest, stroking down between my breasts to my belly button. Then they brush over my breasts, gentle strokes circling around my nipples. I can feel how wet I am, the tension growing in my belly.

"Daza," I sigh, my mind going blank with desire. I find their lips and kiss them, darting my tongue gently into their mouth, licking their lips. They continue painting, taking the brush over my exposed belly, then up to my neck and back again. The cold water is a sharp contrast to the heat of my skin. I open my eyes and start to take off their shirt. "Is this alright?" I ask.

"Yes."

I see their erection through their boxers as I slide their pants off. I take the paintbrush from them, dip it in the water, and start to brush it over their ribs and stomach. "Do I have the artist's technique?" I joke.

"You do," they whisper, their voice gravelly. With my other hand, I take off my shorts so I'm wearing nothing but thin briefs, then turn around and straddle Daza. I push my hips into theirs, feeling their penis harden against my lower abdomen. I can hardly breathe. Impatient, I put the paintbrush down and bring my lips to Daza's ear.

"How much do you want to do today?" I whisper.

They take my hips in their strong hands and pull me into them, firmly. "As much as you want," they breathe.

I let out a moan in response, feeling out of control with desire. I take off my underwear, then theirs, and straddle them again, their penis hot and rigid against my vulva. I grind into them, moving my vulva up and down as slowly as I can bear, hearing their breath grow ragged. They lift me up by the hips and slowly set me down onto their penis. I feel them slide into my vagina, so wet that there is no resistance, but I still gasp at the sudden sensation of being filled by them, a momentary relief that then only demands more. They move my hips up and down, languidly at first, until I can't take it any longer. I plant my hands on Daza's bony shoulders and ride their penis, as if to consume it into my body. I feel the warmth spread over my body like the heat of the sun.

Daza is moaning, eyes closed and head thrown back. I can tell by their face, by the tension in their muscles, by how hard their penis is that they are going to come soon. I want them to orgasm. I press my breast to their face and they close their warm mouth over my nipple, sucking on it sharply. "Mel," they breathe, their voice strained. "Yes, Mel."

"Give it to me," I whisper into their ear. "I want you." I stroke my clit with the pad of one finger, the unbearable desire building.

I feel their length inside me grow even harder, then spasm. Daza lets out a loud groan. I feel the heat gushing inside me, filling me up, and it sends me over the edge. I gasp as I release, the muscles of my vagina pulsing around Daza's penis in waves of pleasure.

Daza falls back on the couch, and I lean into their chest, not ready to break our connection yet. I listen to their heartbeat now, fluttering fast. "Was it too much?" I ask.

"No, it was amazing," they reply. They put their arms around me, warm against my skin now clammy with sweat, and hold me close. We sit that way for a while until I think they've fallen asleep.