v u l v a l i c i o u s
those three days
my fingers on the button of your jeans, the way it would feel to tug at your belt and watch you tighten/release under the pull. my hand on your cock, my mouth on your mouth.
my mouth on you.
the heat rising up in waves, sweltering, a furnace. the flush of sex on your skin, on my skin. your body slick with sweat, so smooth my fingers glide over it easily. i press in hard enough to bruise, always.
it's this on repeat.
you're all small cries and shortness of breath. the sharp inhalation of air as i run my nose, tongue, tips of teeth up your exposed neck. my teeth are so sharp you tell me later you were sure they'd break you. tear you apart and leave you bleeding. i bite and suck and hold you tighter.
such an undeniable ache.
i've been reliably informed that this is possible. that i am possible. i've heard you say it time and again, quote poetry at me or else toss out a line from your favorite novel, the one you leave in the drawer of your desk. you thumb absentmindedly at the dog-eared pages while i search for the hidden meanings between the lines.
so i take you apart slowly.
one piece at a time, carefully. carefully. deconstructing your body with my hands and mouth, diagrams and maps made by my tongue and kept by my hands, smoothed out lines and shattered connections. i tie you up in neat knots, your sinew, flesh, the hot blood that keeps you moving. i bind it together so that it's easier to notice when you fall apart.
i suck you til you're undone.
frayed at your edges and tears in your eyes. your hand in my hair pulling so hard, so tight. i look up and watch you shift from the last impossible thing i'd attempt to do before breakfast into the first possible thing i can reach out and touch. tangible, manifestable, hot and warm and real. and here. and you.