Listening to: Night Diving by Thrice

I wish I could tell you all the things I've had to keep to myself. Last night I was with you again, the second time in a month, and after we had our fill of each other, we twisted the sheets haphazardly over us while our legs got even more hopelessly entangled, and I could have soundly fallen asleep in your bed (in your arms) as the music softly played from your desktop.

I didn't though. Of course I didn't. I'm always leaving you, always a temporary guest in your room and if I hope for something more permanent than a few snatched hours, I don't even whisper the words aloud to myself on every lonely drive back home, with my knuckles pale on the steering wheel and my mouth pursed tight from the ache in my chest. I never present anything but a casual, level-headed front to you when all I've ever been since May is a young woman burning up with too much want and unspoken passions.

Were I a braver person (to either face my own desires or your decidedly cooler attitude towards me, I can't say), not a single meeting would pass without you knowing the full scope of my longing: the fever your touch instills, the desperate way I claw your back as if to claim what isn't mine, the breaths I hold as my fingers trace the line of your jaw and commit the shape of your eyes to memory. I wouldn't be afraid of the strength of my feelings, and you wouldn't be afraid of the intensity of this side I've tempered for years.

But who could see this nature, my true nature, and not shy away for fear of being consumed by it? Who could--who would--want someone like me, once they learn the truth? Would you? Dare I entertain the thought? I don't. I won't. At the very least I can be honest here.

Monday Night

He was waiting on the porch when I got out of the car, watching me make my way up the stairs. As soon as I reached the top step, we smirked at each other and exchanged two lines about my driving before he grabbed my bag strap and pulled me to him. His beard scratched my cheeks, but I hung on tight anyway and breathed deep so I'd remember his aftershave for later, when the need to recall him (and the moment) would become too unbearable to put off any longer. I pressed harder against him as I felt his hands slip past my coat to grip my hips, and eventually dipping beneath the waistband of my pants to cup my ass. Despite the temperature, the air felt less chilly then, and I shivered for an entirely different reason.

-----

Once we’re in his room, he takes to exploring me with reckless abandon. For that single, precious hour, I let myself succumb to his touch and ban every anxious thought from my mind because with him, I never know when we meet will be the last time we meet. My nails trace new pathways down his back. His hot breath dampens my collarbone. The brutal dexterity of his fingers, wickedly curled as they slide in and out of me, steals any attempts at coherent speech. Sweat beads on the small of my back, makes the hair stick to my forehead, cements us to his dark gray sheets. 

The liquid heat between my legs spread warm over my thighs, and when he looks up, my knees hooked over his shoulders, he wants to see me staring. And I do. I’m entranced. But the intense expression in his eyes causes me to glance away. After that, I keep my eyes shut and open my other senses to accommodate the fullness of what I’m experiencing. When he finally replaces his tongue with his length, it is not pain, but the sweetest of aches that coax the ragged moans from my lips. As for the rest of what occurs, some details are too visceral to record even here. 

During the drive home, I swear I can still taste him in my mouth.  

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I burn and burn and burn whenever I’m with him. How long until the fire reverts to ashes again from yet another disappointment that seems an inevitable part of our up-down cycle?

another reason why I should keep this guy

- a couple weeks ago when we met up, I insisted on no sex because I want to see if we have actual friendship staying-power (which we do, as I've been finding out bit by bit). he complied and we spent an hour in his room just half-naked grinding (since it's not sex, I think this counts as a success so shutup)

- right before I left he did request that I sit on his face so he could taste me properly (because the last time I sat on his face, he accidentally sucked blood for half an hour--a story I might revisit when I've gotten over my embarrassment). I complied oops

- did anyone really expect me to say no to that request