The Frequency of Want

“Much,” I confirmed, my voice a contented sigh. “God, Jordan. I… I don’t even know what to say. That was…”

“Perfection,” Jordan supplied, their voice a confident rumble. “Pure, unadulterated perfection. Just like you.”

I felt a blush creep up my neck again, my gaze dropping briefly before lifting once more to meet my own in the mirror. “Perfection, huh?” I murmured, my voice teasing. “Careful, your ego’s showing.”

“Oh, I’m not egotistical, love,” Jordan countered, their voice rich with amusement. “I’m just… visually motivated. And the view tonight? Stunning. As always.”

I laughed, the sound bright and genuine in the quiet of my studio. “Charmer,” I accused lightly, shaking my head at my own grinning reflection. “You always know just what to say.”

“It’s a gift,” Jordan said, their voice playful. “But I mean every word. You… tonight… God, Riley. I’ll be thinking about that for days. Weeks. Maybe even months.”

“Months, huh?” I teased, my voice light. “That’s a long time to be thinking about my O-face.”

“Worth it,” Jordan shot back, their voice warm with laughter. “So fucking worth it.”

I shook my head again, my smile widening as I took in my own reflection—the flushed skin, the bright eyes, the genuine, uncomplicated happiness radiating from every pore. “You’re good for my ego, Jordan,” I murmured, my voice soft. “Really good.”

“Just returning the favor, love,” Jordan said, their voice sincere. “You’re good for my everything.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly tight with emotion. “Ditto,” I whispered, my voice rough. “So fucking ditto.”

Another comfortable silence fell, the connection between us humming with a warm, sated energy. In the mirror, I watched my own breathing even out, my body relaxing into a loose, languid pose against the glass.

“Stay with me?” I murmured after a long moment, my voice soft with vulnerability. “Just… just for a little while longer?”

“Always, Riley,” Jordan promised, their voice a low, soothing hum. “I’ll stay as long as you need me. As long as you want me.”

“Forever,” I whispered, my voice a contented sigh. “I want you forever, Jordan.”

“Forever it is,” Jordan confirmed, their voice warm and rich with promise. “Now rest, love. Let me watch over you. Let me be here with you.”

I let out a soft hum of agreement, my body sinking deeper into the support of the mirror as I let my eyes drift shut. The silence stretched between us, warm and comfortable, punctuated only by the soft sounds of our shared breathing.

And in that silence, in that perfect, peaceful moment, I felt it—the deep, resonant truth of Jordan’s words.

Forever.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that—me slumped against the mirror, Jordan’s breathing a steady rhythm in my ear—as the quiet wrapped around us like a blanket. When the toy finally slipped out with a soft, wet sound, I barely registered the loss. My body hummed with the ghost of its rhythm, a phantom pleasure that made my thighs clench with remembered sensation.

“Look at you,” Jordan murmured, their voice hushed with reverence. “Flushed and glowing. Like a goddamned work of art.”

I met my own eyes in the mirror—dark and dazed, pupils still blown wide—and a slow, satisfied smile stretched across my face. “Feel like it too,” I rasped, my voice rough from exertion. “Thanks to you.”

“All you, love,” they countered softly. “I just held the remote.”

A breathy laugh escaped me as I pushed off from the mirror, my legs still unsteady beneath me. “Liar,” I accused fondly, padding toward the bed on trembling legs. “You conducted the whole symphony. Every note.”

“And what a symphony it was,” Jordan purred, the satisfaction in their voice warming me from the inside out. “But watch—see how your body sways with the memory of it? Like you’re still dancing to the afterglow.”

I paused mid-step, catching my reflection in the mirror’s surface. They were right—I was moving with a loose, languid grace, my hips still shifting in a subtle echo of the rhythm that had carried me over the edge. “You put that dance in me,” I said, my voice soft with wonder.

“Nah, love,” Jordan murmured, their voice a low rumble. “That dance was always in you. I just helped you find the beat.”

I let that truth settle over me as I reached the bed, sinking onto the edge of the mattress with a sigh. My skin still tingled, my nerve endings alight with the lingering echoes of pleasure. “Stay?” I asked, my voice suddenly small. “Just… just a little longer?”

“Always,” Jordan promised, their voice a comforting weight in the quiet. “Dance for me. Slow. Like you’re savoring every step.”

And so I did—rising from the bed, I let my body sway to a melody only I could hear, my movements fluid and unhurried. In the mirror, my reflection followed suit, a silent partner in this intimate, wordless dance. Jordan’s whispers guided me, their voice painting pictures of future nights, of shared breaths and tangled limbs, of a time when the distance between us would dissolve like mist in the morning sun.

When the call finally ended, the silence that followed felt heavy, charged with a longing so deep it ached. I traced the edges of my reflection in the mirror, marveling at the flush that still clung to my skin, the way my eyes held a new kind of light.

Would the mirror ever hold us both?