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His back is arching up off the stage. I can see it in his eyes rolling back in his head. The saturation of sensations has every muscle in his body flexing, clenching, pushing against the stage to drive into me.
Need overcomes me, and I scratch his hands, placing them on my breasts, squeezing them tight. The excess flesh spills over his fingers, my nipples pinched and tweaked by his fingertips.
My hand strays, reaching along my belly, lower, circling the tip of my swollen clit.
“This is how I want to come,” I moan to the heavens. To Heaven.
Distantly, I hear my own voice crying out, ringing through the vault above, wailing, singing for him. His voice joins in, harmonizing in sweet agony.
I won't let myself say his name.
That goes against the rules of this performance, the rules of any performance. But in my head, I'm screaming his name over and over and over.
Evan! Evan! Evan !
When I look down into his eyes, I know he hears me and that my name is on his lips.
We’re reaching the end of our rope right as the music reaches a feverish pitch. A cacophony shakes the floor around us.
Or maybe it’s Evan, grinding deep inside me.
I feel the rush of my orgasm building in my lower abdomen. My knees lock onto Evan’s hips.
The rising aura of a shared sexual experience vibrates the air around us. It feels like waves on the ocean crashing, rising and falling.
To my left the tidal wave starts, each of our troupe reaching their apex. It roils around us in a tornado of keening moans. It's euphoric. Each one pulses through me, washing over me.
I hear the growl start deep in Evan’s chest growing in volume, his ass clenching up into me, pounding me with each thrust of his hips.
It’s more than I can take.
I tip back, completely spread out, bent in half, my feet tucked under me.
My knees keep me from falling away as he unleashes himself inside me, spilling out and completing me.
Searing hot lava surges through my entire body, cresting, consuming me. Then I’m spent. Limp.
Strong hands are there to pull me up, fingers caressing my hair. I realize they’re his, holding me, his face buried in my breasts, held tight to my bosom.
His hands wrap around my back like he'll never let me go. I never want him to.
The lights clap out with our release, leaving us for several moments in our reverie. Until the audience erupts into chaos, shouting, clapping, howling our praise while moans of ecstasy echo in the background.
The curtains close, hiding us from sight.
All I can hear, see, or feel is Evan.
This was something different. Something that I'll never recover from.
Evan sweeps me up in his arms, carrying me backstage to a dressing room, to the shower. We stand in silence, holding each other, washing off the paint and the mingled mess of our love.
I can’t think of another word for what we did, what we are.
Even if I can’t say it. Even if I know he won’t.
“Evan?”
He gazes down at me, intense, devastating. “You were…” He shakes his head.
