Sweet Revenge: Honeymoon Beginnings

The scent of ocean air hung heavy in the humid Texas heat, but inside our honeymoon suite, a different kind of heat was building. Michael, bless his sweet, sensitive soul, was a whirlwind of nervous energy, fidgeting constantly as I surveyed our luxurious surroundings. He’d been through so much, endured so much cruelty in his youth, that the simple act of being in a beautiful hotel room felt monumental for him. It wasn’t that he lacked desire; quite the opposite. He just struggled with the confidence to express it, a lingering effect of years spent being belittled and dismissed. It was a tenderness that had drawn me to him initially, this vulnerability beneath his gentle exterior, and now, it was the key to unlocking the passion we both craved.

We'd ordered room service, a lavish spread of shrimp cocktail, miniature quiches, and champagne, and settled in for a movie – a classic, cheesy rom-com that felt oddly appropriate for the occasion. As the credits rolled, I decided it was time to take charge. Michael was still nervously picking at his nails, a habit he’d developed during stressful situations, so I needed to act decisively. I casually reached out and gently brushed my hand across his upper thigh, feeling the immediate tensing of his muscles. It wasn’t a forceful gesture, just a light touch, but it was enough to break through his inhibitions. He shifted slightly, a tiny ripple of heat spreading across his skin, and I knew I had his attention.

Slowly, deliberately, I continued, tracing patterns up his leg, my fingers lingering on the sensitive skin just above his knee. He held his breath, his eyes fixed on my hand, a flicker of anticipation in their depths. Finally, reaching his crotch, I pressed my hand firmly against his shaft, feeling the immediate surge of arousal. He groaned softly, a low, primal sound that resonated through him. He leaned into my hand, tipping his head back, his eyes closed, lost in the sensation. The blush on his face was unmistakable, a testament to the raw, unbridled pleasure he was experiencing.

Without hesitation, I dropped to my knees in front of him, unbuckling his belt with deliberate slowness. The anticipation was palpable, thick in the air. I pulled his pants down, revealing his briefs, and then, with a deep breath, removed his t-shirt, leaving him completely nude. The sight of him, so vulnerable and exposed, sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn't objectification; it was reverence. He had endured so much, and now, here I was, laying him bare, not just physically, but emotionally, offering him the space to shed his insecurities and embrace his desires.

My heart pounded in my chest as I took his thick length into my hand, feeling its powerful, insistent rhythm against my palm. I began to pump slowly, deliberately, drawing out a deep moan from his throat. He pulled himself closer, his arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me even closer until our bodies were pressed together. The room seemed to shrink, the world outside fading away as we lost ourselves in the moment. His moans grew louder, more insistent, as he pushed back, his hands gently pushing against my head, seeking deeper penetration.

His breathing became ragged, heavy, as he reached the brink. He looked up at me, his eyes wide with pleasure, a desperate plea for more. I answered his silent call, taking his erect member into my mouth, unbuttoning my jeans as I swirled my tongue around its base. The sensation was overwhelming, a torrent of pleasure that threatened to consume me. I continued to stimulate him, pulling him closer, deepening the rhythm, feeling his every tremor, every sigh.

As he surged, I looked up at his flushed face, captivated by the raw intensity of his pleasure. His eyes were closed, his body writhing with ecstasy. I took another swig of his seminal fluid, savoring the salty taste, feeling the heat spread through my body. Then, with a final, desperate push, he emptied himself completely. I looked up at his face, flushed crimson, eyes closed, completely spent. I couldn’t help but give it a quick, lingering kiss, flicking my tongue out to collect the last remnants of his pleasure.

He pulled back slightly, panting, his body trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction. He tangled his fingers into my hair, pulling me closer, seeking comfort and reassurance. I bobbed my head in response, continuing to pump his length with one hand, while gently stroking his body with the other. His moans returned, softer now, more contented, as his hands started to push gently against my head, seeking more. The room was filled with the sounds of our shared pleasure, a symphony of moans, sighs, and the rhythmic thumping of our bodies against each other.

Finally, he pulled away completely, taking a deep, shuddering breath. He looked at me, his eyes filled with gratitude and tenderness. "Oh, Lexi," he whispered, his voice hoarse, "I think I’m gonna pass out."

I chuckled softly, pulling myself onto the couch beside him, curling up next to him and laying my head on his (still bare) chest. The scent of his sweat mingled with the lingering scent of champagne, creating a heady, intoxicating aroma. I watched as he slowly regained his composure, his eyes lingering on me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, his touch feather-light, yet undeniably intimate.

As we lay there together, bathed in the soft glow of the hotel room, I realized that this honeymoon was more than just a celebration of our love; it was a testament to his strength, his vulnerability, and the incredible journey we had taken together. The bullying, the insecurities, the years of pain – they had all contributed to the man I loved, and now, through our shared pleasure, we were finally free.

He lifted me in his arms, carrying me over to the bed and gently laying me down. He got in on the other side, pulling me into his side, and as I buried my face into his chest, I felt a profound sense of peace and contentment. The flight tomorrow morning loomed, but for now, we were lost in the moment, lost in the intoxicating pleasure of each other's company.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, feeling slightly self-conscious.

“Well, I mean, you, you’re, like, perfect, and I’m just…me,” he ducked his head slightly, seeming almost ashamed.

“Yeah. You’re you. That’s WHY I love you!” I responded, my voice barely audible.

He looked up at me, his beautiful green eyes peeking out from behind his fringe. “R-really?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Of course! BUT the fringe has helped you some!” I laughed, drawing one from him as well. “Now, we have a long flight tomorrow morning, so for now, let’s get some sleep, yeah? Does that sound good to you?”

“Sure,” he smiled slightly. He lifted me in his arms, carrying me over to the bed and laying me down. He got in on the other side, pulling me into his side. I buried my face into his chest as he nuzzled my hair gently. “I love you, Alexandra,” he whispered sleepily.

“I love you too, Michael,” I murmured, feeling my self quickly slip into a deep sleep.

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