A Year of Joy - M4A

You chuckle to yourself and brush the leaves out of his hair, fingers trailing through the lengthy waves of Autumn and man. His smile melts the momentary wince from hitting the ground, and you falling atop him, and he quickly presses that smile to yours. Cinnamon. Chocolate. Cream.

His smile breaks into a laugh as you tell him how sweet he tastes, and he quickly wraps his arms about your frame, twisting and rolling atop you, snow crinkling like sugar under you. He's barely able to get out his retort about your own lovely flavor before you grip the back of his neck and pull him in for another kiss. A chill breeze. Goosebumps. A shiver down your spine.

There's a twinkle of debauchery in his eye as his fingers circle your wrists, pinning them above your head playfully. Your teeth catch his bottom lip, a nibble of encouragement driving his knees between thighs to pull them apart. The spring wildflowers beside you wave in a gentle wind that guides his hand up under your shirt to caress your warm skin. Daisies. Wet grass. Ancient maples dripping sap.

His lips trail from your chin down your neck to your collarbone, teeth imitating yours and leaving tiny marks in your flesh. You wiggle in excitement, hands instinctively trying to break from his grip to worm their way down into his clothes. He murmurs something into your skin, teeth and tongue gently playing at your earlobe as he undoes your pants. The warmth of the summer sun caresses you nearly as gently as he does, fingers pulling away at your waistband before letting it snap back into place. You chide him, laughter symphonizing with his own before meeting his lips once more to catch his joy within yourself. Cedar smoke. River-worn stones. Salt of the sea.

Your lips part slightly from his as you moan in response to his fingers finding their goal between your thighs. He smiles bigger, kisses bigger, moves harder, driven by your pleasure and the waning sun. Eyes closed, you feel a few leaves drift from his hair once more as he shivers with excitement and as the chilly air dances across his skin. There. You catch his momentary lapse and wiggle free of his grasp, hands tugging at his hair to pull him back. His smile beams down at you, now brighter than the sun behind the clouds, and growing brighter as you undo his own pants and pull forth your reward. Baked apples. Freshly carved pumpkins. Long-tilled soil.

You grip him tightly in the cold, stroking him against yourself with renewed vigor. He gasps, clouds of chilly passion escaping his lips. Your own shivers of pleasure quickly build under him, his hips beginning to drift back and forth, grinding his his desire against yours, his need against yours. Your free hand finds one of his, fingers lacing together, eyes meeting one last time before his composure breaks. His head falls back as he reaches climax, moaning into the wintry air, your pelvis and thighs suddenly warm with his pleasure, mixing with your own as he thrusts into your hand, grinding down against you with desperation for your warmth, your joy. He catches his breath, muscles tensing and shaking post-release, and quickly leans down to kiss you once more, lips finding your own just right in the fading light. Your bodies tangle together, sharing your warmth, your light, this perfect moment outlined against the gray sunset. You smile, delighting in the wonderful taste of his passion.

Cinnamon. Chocolate. Cream.