She crept up behind him as he lay spread across the bed, quickly tucked his arms behind her folded knees, placed his head in her lap, smiled down at him- her eyes slightly gleaming, lips curling more wickedly now, and started…to tickle him.
In this respect, she knew his body better than he could ever hope to.
Her fingers skewered his naval, raked up and down his ribs, danced across his chest and under his arms like flaming spiders, her dark hair falling around his galvanized expressions.
She tickled him until his abs and pectorals swelled and tightened in statuesque perfection. His legs thrashing, hips bucking, toes curling to less than no avail.
She tickled him until his every threat of revenge became a promise of utter surrender. Until, Goddammit I’m going to murder you! became Baby! you’re my queen! my goddess! baby, baby I’m yours forever! the only one, I swear on my life! it’s you! I’ll never leave the seat up again! Baby please!!!
She tickled him until he knew the simultaneous satisfaction and curiosity of a lioness contemplating a flailing cricket under her paws after a perfectly exacted pounce. And the irrelevent force of an earth-shattering avalanche beneath an observing humming bird’s perfectly poised fluttering.
She tickled him until his life’s every fear, doubt, regret, hesitation, and contempt became a single, unshakable conviction, bathed in blinding white light and laughter.
Until tears of ecstasy rained down his cheeks between her thighs.
Until his contorted body collapsed, empty, still, anew.
Until his locked lids fell back open and his glazed eyes peered up at her in awe.
Until three whispers slipped through his lips.