The black wash over the sky makes everything quieter.
The black wash over the sky makes everything but us quieter.
Our breathing is loud; it’s heavy and it’s ragged.
My hands, your hands, and the hands on the clock,
What do they all have in common?
They circle and they roam and they go around.
Your skin goes tick, and mine fills in the tock.
We do our thing, and time does its own.
Twenty-seven minutes and sixteen seconds.
That was all it really took to beat around the bush
Before we start beating ourselves off for taking so long
Twenty-seven minutes too long, sixteen seconds too much
My hands move on their own, and they start from the top.
A thumb caresses a cheek, and a forefinger slides into an open mouth.
When my fingers run through the arch of your back,
I am reminded of the crescent moon washed in black.
The sheets have gotten wet—amongst other things
And when we move, we no longer grind against each other
When we move, our bodies slide together
It is a dance of two, a duet where we sing
And each thrust brings out another note
One that’s either too sharp or too low
But by the gods, it has honestly been
The most melodious thing to have ever reached me.
All I could think about was this—
My lips on a road from your throat to your chest
And from your chest to your thighs
Until I reach the intersection between them.
All I could think about was this—
How your body responds to each lick, each kiss,
How my tongue is in charge, and your body the prisoner
You pull my hair, and I go deeper.
The line of your jaw is familiar
How it connects to your neck to your shoulders
Firm and strong and lean and irresistible
Where I kiss and bite and mark something irreversible
A kind of imprint that means I was here,
And I want to always be here, With you always there.
These are my thoughts as you bring me to the edge.
I wonder what’s yours when I bring you there?
The black wash over the sky makes everything quieter.
The black wash over the sky makes everything but us quieter.
Our breathing is loud; it’s heavy and it’s ragged.
You lie down on the mattress, stomach down, hair a mess
And I lie beside you facing the ceiling with your hand on my chest
We are overcome by exhaustion and sleep
Even so I muster the energy to roll over,
So it is your face that I fall asleep to in this place.
I never can exactly know with you
Because you always do whatever it is you want to do.
The black wash is still over the sky,
And everything is still as quiet as we left it.
Except now beside me are cold sheets, sheets empty of you.
I almost feel a panic rise in me, only something else makes its way in me.
I look down at where it came from,
And a familiar head rises from beneath the blanket,
A sound escapes my lips just before they form a smile.
We do our thing, and time,
snowghoul
stormborns
baratheonpilled
blakekathryn
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
jacobvanloon
