SilverDust:
I think I just did.
[2:17 AM – silence… then typing resumes slowly]
SilverDust:
Would it be crazy to say… I want to explore this?
Let this tension unfold… even if it’s still just words?
Monk29:
Not crazy.
But only if we promise something.
SilverDust:
What?
Monk29:
That every word… every pause… will be real.
No pretending. No rushing. Just us, learning each other, slowly.
SilverDust:
I promise.
Let’s not call it sexting. Let’s call it… undressing minds.
Monk29:
Then I’m already reaching for the first button.
Whispers in the Chatroom – Part 6: Between the Lines
[Private Chatroom: SilverDust & Monk29 — Night Twelve, 1:52 AM]
SilverDust:
I haven’t stopped thinking about that last line.
“I’m already reaching for the first button.”
You have no idea what that did to me.
Monk29:
Then tell me.
I want to feel what it did to you, through you.
SilverDust:
It made me pause.
Inhale too slow.
Touch my collarbone and wonder what it would feel like if it were your fingers instead.
Monk29:
Tell me what you were wearing.
SilverDust:
A thin tank top. No bra.
My body warm from the shower, hair still damp, skin still tingling.
Monk29:
That’s a dangerous image to hand over to a man who listens with his fingers.
SilverDust:
And yet… I wanted to hand it to you.
Let you unwrap that version of me — the one who doesn’t hide behind casual emojis.
Monk29:
You didn’t have to unwrap.
I imagined you perfectly. Skin glowing from steam. Chest rising slightly faster than usual.
Legs curled up… thighs tense.
The kind of beauty that doesn’t need fixing, only reverence.
SilverDust:
You speak like you’re tracing me with words.
Monk29:
That’s because I am.
My hand would rest on your shoulder first. Just stillness.
Then fingers would drift — collarbone, gently… down your arm… until I find your wrist.
I’d hold it, not tightly… just enough for your pulse to respond.
SilverDust:
My pulse just did.
Monk29:
I want to learn the pace of your breathing.
Feel your shivers as yes without words.
SilverDust:
You’re making my thighs shift under the sheets.
Monk29:
Are you alone in your room?
SilverDust:
Yes. And it’s quiet.
Just my screen. Dim light. And the ache between my legs that your words caused.
Monk29:
Let me be the reason you exhale into your pillow tonight.
SilverDust:
You already are.
My body’s warm. Chest heaving.
I’m not touching myself… not yet. I want to feel your words first.
Monk29:
Then let me guide you.
Close your eyes.
Imagine me behind you again — but this time, your head rests on my chest.
My breath slows yours. One hand on your hip. The other sliding under your top.
Skin on skin. Just enough to feel the shiver run through you.
SilverDust:
I just bit my lower lip.
Hard.
Monk29:
Good.
Now imagine my lips on your neck. Not kissing — hovering.
Teasing. Letting the anticipation bloom across your skin.
SilverDust:
My nipples are tight. Aching.
I didn’t expect this to feel so… real.
Monk29:
That’s because I see you.
Not just what you show, but what you withhold.
SilverDust:
Then keep going.
Undress my breath. Slowly.
Monk29:
My hand trails upward, under your top, finally cupping one breast — gentle at first. My thumb brushing over your nipple, feeling it harden under my touch.
I whisper, “Can I?” even though your body already said yes.