Sometimes I don't know how to say things. It's always been a problem of mine, meaning the people who get close to me think that I can see the outsides of things and never the mysterious textures beneath. I can see them, the countless shapes of things inside that spiral and collide with one another and constantly form anew. I can see them and feel the energies they are made from. But the words, once formed, have trouble leaving my mouth. I think we say things in other ways, the unseen things inside us eventually traveling outwards and reaching one another.

It's a power we have little understanding of. It’s like it's our deepest primal intuitions gathering to subconsciously send signals; a sliver of echo location our species has yet to master. We know it in blips and stutters far beneath the surfaces that swell and eventually take control. Some are split-seconds too hazy to see. Some are more defined and drawn out. They're what I see when I think of you. There are always flickering moments of you in my head; disconnected flashes and sensations that never assemble in the right order. But they never fail to flood my entire being.

I see you near the window at night, cool wind blowing through and swirling your brown hair around like a fluttering silk curtain. I see you turn look at me, eyes vibrant in the dim moon's glow streaming through.

I step closer, drawn to the way the wind teases just a hint of your perfume around me to inhale, the way the faintest smile curves your lips. Such a simple expression that always has power over me. It always sends the same signal, calls out to my body as a beacon to close the distance between us. As I reach out, hand just close enough to graze your shoulder, your smile widens and the rest is for no one else to know.

We were at your friend's house, I remember, for our first date. You joked about how we could be all normal and romantic next time by going to dinner and a film. As we walked in, your arm hooked through mine like I was already yours and you wanted everyone to know it.

I liked that you wanted to claim me in front of your friends. I also liked the way you said "next time" like you were already mapping out an "us" in your future. Yeah, I was probably grinning like a fool, but beaming too happily to care who noticed.

Inside, the one-story house was full of people I'd never met. Your friends, co-workers, casual acquaintances and some strangers, friends of friends. For someone like me, it was almost overwhelming to be surrounded by so many new people in an unfamiliar place, music playing from the stereo, countless bits of conversations orbiting in every direction.

You kept your arm in mine as we got our drinks. Red wine for you, whiskey for me. You gradually introduced me to your closest friends, never going at a pace that would overload me with too many new faces and names to remember at once. As I met each one, engaging in small talk and having several more drinks, I felt even more relaxed. The whiskey buzzed through my system, warming my blood and loosening my every muscle. How easily you brought me into your world. How familiar some things already seemed.

Familiar, like the way your smile lit up your crystalline, vibrant eyes. Or like how your smile betrayed the more casual, guarded shy look you would come to have in photographs because you never liked having cameras pointed your way. The lens would capture that look, lending you an air of mystery and making you even more beautiful. Not because one expression favored another, but because each one revealed another layer of the beauty already naturally there.

The night felt familiar because your arm was either hooked through mine or holding me or somewhere on me: back, hip, shoulder, waist or neck... just a gesture of both affection and subtle ownership. Physical contact clearly displayed, telling both me and any curious eyes in the room that I was your territory.

As the night went on, several drinks later for both of us, my buzz heightened. Not to that point of blacked-out, but more like moments snipped and clumsily pasted together again, seconds and minutes lost within each edit.

Between meeting everyone, drinking, and laughing, we'd break away for a few: bathroom trips, refills at different times, conversations in groups branching off in different sections... the usual at parties. Somewhere along the way, I ended up going outside alone on the deck, downing my drink and lighting up a smoke.

It was nearing the end of November then and the sky was so clear that it resembled a glittering wheel of still silver needlepoints framed around the moon's silver disc. The slight breeze was even cold enough to cut straight through my pants and hoodie. Exhaling a cloud of smoke and leaning a little on the deck's railing, I simply stared off at the quiet dim street.

Although I came out for a smoke, I was also glad to get away. Not from you or your friends, specifically. I've just never been used to being around a lot of people at once. I'm used to the quiet roominess of my apartment and I never think about whether that's a good or bad thing until I go out somewhere.

That anxiety I feel around strangers was still there below the surface, but you helped me through it. And even though you were right inside the house, probably less than twenty or so feet away, chatting with your friends, I already missed you. That would be the first of many times I'd feel that, the weight of how close I would feel to you in such a short amount of time.

There is almost a shape to such potent things. Like a light current surging through the fleshy cables of my veins, it circulated an energy through my every cell, through my pores, like tiny spiralling wisps I could almost see around me. It was like some vague spirit, some new aura you had already made, taking shape. Maybe it was already too much, what you wanted to give to me. Not because I didn't want you. But because maybe I wanted you too much.

I never heard the door open and close or heard your steps, but I inhaled the mixed aroma of wine and your perfume in the air. You were smiling when I turned and saw you, refilled glass in your hand that you sat down on a nearby table. A tipsy smile lingered on your lips. I've come to love that specific smile, the one where you look like you have a fun secret you'll share with no one but me.

Your head tilted a little in mock disapproval at the sight of the cigarette in my hand, but you still smiled. Even though you weren’t angry (or, even worse, disappointed) at all, my heart was thudding faster. I wondered if the anxiety was creeping back up or if it had been there all along and the whiskey merely provided a numbing veil that was starting to pull away.

I lied to you for the first and only time, saying I was fine when you asked if I was okay. You stepped so close that the only thing really between us were the tendrils of smoke floating from the cigarette, curling and rising into the night like a ghost drifting heavenwards.

Your hand broke through that chemical mist and took mine, squeezing softly, guiding me with you to the deck's railing. I realized what was wrong righted when your hand touched mine. Nothing about being at an unfamiliar house and drinking with strangers felt quite right. But everything felt right with you.

I smiled back and we were frozen in that moment like you knew what I was thinking, or could at least feel it. Your hand made me remember how cold my skin had grown since stepping out here. Yours warmed mine, squeezing once more before you looked up at the sky.

You loved looking up there the same way I loved looking into your eyes. I saw a universe in there, too, an undiscovered sprawl of planets and constellations waiting to be mapped. I'd write that in a birthday card to you one day. That we were a perfect fit, because we could be astronomers together. Any initial fear of my words being too mushy would be washed away when you smiled and said it was one of the sweetest things you'd ever been told.

Now, though, I don't have words. Just motion.

This time, I squeezed your hand while throwing the cigarette away. Instinct overwhelms when we least expect it to, ignorant of calendars and clocks and rules. Instinct breaks stillness with the unique force of human action, even if the movements suddenly possessing us seem deliberate and slow.

And that light current, that energy I swore I could feel surging before, returned stronger than ever when I turned to face you and all I saw was your face illuminated by the pale moonlight's silver glow. Your smile faded into a peaceful stare, the calm oceans of your eyes holding mine so still. And it all seemed motionless, too, like your eyes had halted my sudden move, but only to dare me to keep going.

I reached out and touched your warm cheek, your eyelids just barely narrowing from my soft caress. My fingertips trailed lower and your head moved with them as if you were slowly falling into my touch as I closed the space between us. Before my body got closer, that energy, that electricity, was humming through my veins, pulsing through every muscle and screaming to know more, to not stop.

I let my touch become your gravity. My hand stopped right beneath your chin and I tilted your head up and froze. I was terrified to stop but didn’t want to lose that moment when our stare became our entire world and dimmed the universe around us. Overcoming fear, though, was simple when the destination was you.

Your stillness broke in that split second before kissing, so close that I could already feel the warmth emanating from your pores. Then, I only knew your lips as they parted and met mine. I was flooded with more warmth everywhere, heart pounding as I tasted you, lips soft, mouth sweet from red wine. We were slow at first. Not hesitant or uncomfortable, just patient.

My arm curved around your back and I pulled you closer to me, my other hand stroking your cheek. The touch ignited something inside of you and your mouth opened wider to invite me, tongue slipping in. Each move was almost cautious at first - gentle. We were testing one another, probing the unknown, cautiously exploring unfamiliar territories. I had wondered from the start what the texture of your lips would feel like against mine; if your kiss would be nervous at first or demanding, your hunger screaming for me to match your desire.

The light breeze had intensified to a steady gust of cold air. The wind kept us company, fluttering our clothes, chilling skin, teasing random strands of your hair. The things I had wondered about your lips were clarified with each second we let more of ourselves go. The way you tasted, the barely inaudible moans I felt the tiny vibrations of from your mouth and throat. The way you waited for me to escalate the force of the kiss and the dance of our tongues. The farther I travelled, the more you welcomed me.

Your body gave me clues with everything I did, like pressing harder against me when my teeth gently scraped your lower lip. Your arm roamed along my back when our mouths opened a little wider, tongues probing just a little deeper.

When these kind of moments arrive, we all go blind to whatever biological mechanism within us recognizes the passage of time. Our ability to document every little detail with full clarity is weakened from a building sensory overload. Time can stutter and jump over snippets as our senses reel to catch back up with us.

Some of the moments there seemed to flash forward into one another, no bridge between them. But I believe we both remembered everything when we touched.

Frames of image and sound shuffled forward after you gently pulled away, cheeks already slightly flushed from such sudden warmth spilling through your body. You softly said to come inside; that we had stood in the cold long enough. In the living room, most people were still oblivious, still partying and drinking the night away. Your hand was in mine, guiding me through the small crowd of people and surrounding noise. You whispered to your friend, words I never heard, but, by the secretive little smiles you two fought to keep from being too obvious, I'm certain you were asking if we could have a little privacy in one of the bedrooms.

I suddenly remember going down what seemed like a hallway far too long for a house this size, as if my senses warped more of my perception, stretching the hallway out into an endless dim corridor. I think my body was reeling too much by then, too overloaded with anticipation to correctly absorb my surroundings.

Your hand gripped mine and squeezed and the world jolted back into sharp focus. It's always strange to me how a touch can have that power at times; throw our entire universe off balance one second and gently set it back on its proper course the next.

When we reached the room at the hall's end, you closed the door behind us almost all the way, leaving just the faintest slant of light glowing through the bedroom. I immediately felt your hands cupping my face and pulling it to yours.

Your lips sealed over mine with a force I wasn't expecting; a demanding embrace as fevers swept through again just below skin level. I became just as demanding as you were, tongue sliding in and meeting yours.

At first I wasn’t aware of where our bodies were moving towards, only seeing that we were near a small space between the bed and wall. Normally, my instincts would have guided us to the soft and comfortable surface of the bed; my normally passive nature making me continue this slow dance between us. But something primal in me wanted another place; wanted to return and overwhelm the force you'd shown me.

My body pressed yours against the wall, which was softly vibrating from the music throbbing throughout the house. You were already breathing deeply and exhaling little moans as I broke away from your lips to curve my tongue up from your shoulder, planting little kisses along your neck. There was a power radiating in your eyes that I could clearly see in this dim room when I looked at you, faces just shy of touching. It was several powerful things at once: primal lust ready to be ravaged; a soft plea to be gentle at times; a challenge to try and take you.

I heeded all of those things and more. I wanted to surprise you with the depths and forces in me that you didn't know were there. I could tell you didn't expect me to suddenly pin you to the wall by the escalating slam of the pulse I felt in your neck; by the way your mouth consumed mine again. Your nails were softly scraping the back of my neck, your other hand on my shoulder to steady your balance.

My hands roamed too. One, through the silky strands of your hair, the other trailing lower and lower with a speed I never originally planned for but couldn’t temper once I’d started. You weren’t resisting when I grazed just below your stomach - that smooth plane of always soft, warm skin that seemed perfectly designed for loving, wandering fingertips. You weren’t resisting when my hand reached under your pants, under your panties, and traced the small trail of hair towards the wetness below.

Your hand found and clutched my free one as my fingertips slipped between your lips. I already felt as if the heat emanating from inside would pull me in and never let me go. Given a choice, I would never want to be released.

There was none of the fear I'd felt with others before at moments like this. Fears about knowing a barrier is about to be permanently crossed because there is no going back once you have been inside of someone. Fears about hoping I could pleasure you; hoping that the language our bodies spoke here would be as fluid and wonderful as everything else had been between us.

I knew only motion, control and reaction then. My fingers fluttered along your lips, parting them further. Your entire being shivered with delight, like a surge of electricity had hit your nerves as my fingers slowly slid inside you. Each shivering tremble from you felt even stronger with my body pressed against yours. I could feel your heated, wet depths welcoming their new intruders, contouring and pulsing around them the more they proceeded.

My lips were hungry on yours as if we wished to devour, but without the violence that animals do to one another. Our hunt was a more delicate one that left every pore aching for more. That combination of delicacy and animalistic craving was always present in us, even from the very beginning.

Every single space inside you that my fingers slowly pumped were a mysterious and new living territory I wished to claim as my own. You moaned louder when my thumb found and began to massage the aching slick nub of your clit, pulsing as if a tiny heartbeat raced within. Your kiss was more furious than ever with need, pausing only to bite my lip and slightly pull, teeth staking a claim on the land you didn't yet know you already entirely owned.

That feeling, the almost painful but wonderful pleasure and pressure of the bite, made my fingers drill farther in, fluttering, pumping and gently strumming melodies from the world's most complex and beautiful instrument. Your clit was an even more sensitive instrument, with new chords to be learned every time I massaged and applied different levels of pressure.

Your teeth relented, but went for my neck. You were gentler this time, roaming my neck cautiously one moment, then nibbling harder when my fingers applied more force to see how deep they could plunge in, see what threshold I could reach. As I went faster and maintained the same rhythm on your clit, I could feel it nearing... a storm gathering inside you.

Your breath took on more throaty gasps. You moaned and whispered so many things to me then, words wildly swaying between painfully sweet and deliciously naughty ones I never imagined leaving your lips. They're words I keep between us, an intimate and thrilling secret.

Your hips thrust with my every move, wanting that pressure and speed the closer you got. I caught a fleeting glimpse of the dim light striking your eyes as you pulled away from my neck. I swear I could almost see tiny sparks dancing in them, a surge of power overtaking you. Then, you were all moans and trembles, covering my fingers with a coat of hot juices while you clenched and pulsed around me, waves of pure ecstasy cresting and spilling through you.

I stilled my fingers, wanting to savor the clamping squeeze as you moaned and writhed against my neck, your teeth sinking and creating indentations that were physical proof you'd marked me as yours. My thumb didn’t stop its pressure, circling slowly in tune with your fiery spasms. It moved with you, a companion to not only escalate your pleasure, but to also soothe you with softer touches as you began to descend from the plane I'd helped you soar to.

We're not meant to reach such heights of sensory overload every minute of the day. The mind would become like a rubber band snapping from too much ecstasy slamming into our systems at once. Once that flood began to calm, your limbs were loose rubber, your muscles relaxed warm jelly. Your breath was a heated wind traveling along my shoulder where your head had begun to rest on me, a temporary pillow you could trust as you came down.

These would go on to be some of the times I loved you most and would see even more layers of the beauty composing you: When you whispered for me to just hold you; how all you wanted right then was for my arms to become a secure lock around you; how you not only had the desire and trust to let me inside you, but also to embrace you in one of your most vulnerable states; how you whispered that you never wanted me to let go.

In a short while, we would be back among your friends for several more hours of conversations and drinks. We would share brief moments of an arm slipped around one another, hands held, and a quiet walk later through the cold night to your house where you gave me a sweet smile before kissing me goodnight.

But when you wanted me to hold you in that room... that would linger in my mind all night, along with those few frozen seconds before our first kiss. You went on to tell me months later that it was always simple moments between two that stuck the strongest to your memory. That first night our lips met, of exploring inside you and holding you close after... they will always stay with me. They will be a part of me I can never let go of.

Your house in the middle of the night, the winter cold is brutal. The howling wind outside sways the trees, gently vibrating them against the windows at times, like bird's wings softly flapping against the glass. The cold air seems to seep through every crack and crevice it can and methodically snuff out the warmth, no matter how high the thermostat is turned up.

My skin is covered in goose-bumps, the blanket barely covering my body. We wear very casual, comfy clothes to bed. A hoodie and sweatpants for me, a long sleeved thermal shirt and flannel pyjama pants for you.

Shivering a bit, I quickly pull the blanket back over me and slide closer to you, re-forming the comforting pocket of heat beneath that our close bodies create together; this familiar cocoon I could stay wrapped up in all night.

My arm slips around your waist, the rest of my body spooning behind yours. Whenever things get this quiet, the busy parts of our lives halting to an absolute stillness and it's like every sound has been jettisoned away to leave us in a soundless vacuum, I'll think about things like this. The moments with you are imprinted into my head and heart like frozen stills or preserved snapshots. I'll even think about the rarity of two beings crossing each other’s paths and fitting one another so perfectly.

How every contour aligns, how the warmth created always seems to be just the right amount for two people, and how something indefinable is also here. Some wordless allure, a pull towards one that is as absolute as gravity, as the way planets orbit on course, as the way land masses drift through vast oceans and eventually collide one another to form anew.

Maybe there are no words, because assigning them to what we’ll never fully understand would be an attempt to bring it down to a level too basic, too fragile, and attempts to keep scratching its surface would only crack it open. I don't try to question how any of us meet and come together as something much more than drifting strangers or close friends, or as two that seem to know every instinct and mood of the other on a level growing deeper with each passing day.

I don't question the way you softly breathe or how the air your sleeping frame releases from your lungs grazes the arm I have wrapped around you like a light and warm gust of wind. I don’t question the way your body adjusts slightly to snuggle, to get even more comfortable and align even more completely with me.

But in those few seconds of movement, you let out a sound somewhere between a moan, an indecipherable whisper, and the many random noises we all utter in our sleep at times. Shifting my body with yours, we settle into a perfect stillness, my arm still around your waist, shirt pushed up just enough to where my arm drapes around the soft skin just below your bare navel. Your head moves a tiny bit, too.

My lips are close to the exposed skin of your neck where your hair has fallen off to the side. So close that my entire being seems frozen in that aching anticipatory moment before contact. That moment where it's almost like there's a faint humming beneath the skin. It awakens every dormant sleepy nerve that has charged for you from the very first time we touched. That first time my hand gripped yours in a bookstore and you smiled for the very first time at me, your often careful guard falling away. Months later, you'd tell me you smiled because you found it adorable, how nervous I was, and it was cute that I actually shook your hand. I did that because, yes, I was so nervous that my bones felt like soft trembling clay. Gripping your hand became the gravity to still me, make me remember I had a damn spine. I've never told you that. I should one day.

But we know how to speak in countless ways without a word exchanged. My lips inch forward for a split-second and finally kiss the back of your neck; just one of the ways to begin the exchange of our dialogue. Fingertips lightly trace below your stomach, one of the sensitive soft spots you love having me touch. It's one of the many spots I've memorized - how to navigate the specific nuances and reactions of.

The sensation of my lips meeting that spot I love, the delicate curve right where the neck and shoulder meet, begins to pull you out of whatever realm of sleep you were traveling through, while my fingertips caress lower. The slight movement of your hips, your neck craning to the side to present more skin for my lip to kiss... they are all signals. Even though you've yet to touch me or make a sound, you have given me all the cues to proceed. My eyes have already adjusted to the near darkness of the bedroom, the moon's pale disc barely glowing against curtains beyond your side of the bed. You're never a vague shape though, but a beautiful silhouette I can always see because I know your form all too well.

Even so, as your hips shift and I continue kissing, at times I wonder if you're more awake than you let on. If, maybe, you were already awake and simply waiting for me to act, seeing how long my need for you would pass through the cold winter night before I cracked and began to take you. This playful teasing, this delicate balance between two lovers, to exchange power and willingly hand over your entire being to another is one of the most intimate acts. It cannot take place unless two have built a deep trust between them that runs deeper than words. It's a trust that runs deeper with time and exploring one another.

You move more as you roll over on your back and our lips meet. Each kiss in the dark in our bed is always a sweet wine to taste, always a storm delivered by the woman who once claimed my lips even more as hers while pressed against a wall.

The side of your hips intimately press where I'm steadily growing, just teasing me with a slow little grind as your tongue flicks against mine. Every movement beneath the blankets pushes around the heat our bodies made together like invisible clouds of steam climbing up and down my skin, as your hands reach under my hoodie.

I always love this contained space and time. These deliberate moments of escalation where hands begin to roam beneath clothing, trying to remove each article in the dark. I liken it to patiently untying knots, both of us undoing each other with skilled hands.

You catch me off guard. As I'm pulling off my pants and boxers, still sitting up, you're a graceful blur suddenly at my side, on your knees. The fact that you can always surprise me with such feline, silent movement just thrills me even more.

You know this well, can hear the surprised moan my lungs expel as you grip me by the root and take my hardness into your mouth. Always so hot and demanding, the initial shock of wet suction turns my legs to quivering jelly and obliterates all thought. If even one thought remained, it would be snuffed out now as you tongue swirls around my thick sensitive head, setting off what feels like thousands of melting nerve endings at once.

I can focus just enough to moan and reach out to stroke the skin of your back, a crescent shaped pale smooth canvas in the position you're in now, with your mouth sealed around my throbbing ache. Your nails caress and scrape along the sensitive flesh where my legs and stomach meet. You know my spots as well as I know yours, the ones that almost seem to drug and hypnotize us when touched right.

My knees can't help but shake when I feel your moan vibrating along my shaft, humming around the delicate veins encased within, gently take me all the way in. Your other hand begins to cradle and massage below, a move you once joked about, saying it was the equivalent of holding a world in the palm of your hands. Your mouth works faster, building a sweetly torturous rhythm of taking me in deep, then dragging your tongue along the underside each time you pull back.

Our eyes have been locked most of the time, mine sometimes helplessly reduced to narrow slits from the pleasure your mouth so generously delivers. Part of me knows when you do this, you want me to feel beyond amazing, to lose myself in your spell. I also know a part of you wants to see if my control will crack; if I will hang on or let go and be overwhelmed with a powerful release you will swallow entirely.

As friends, lovers, and that beautiful nameless category where we are not officially joined for life yet simply cannot be without the other, we love to give to one another. But we also love the thrill of the tease, of seeing how close we can make the other come the edge, then provide a window of opportunity. That window is simple. If we stay still, then we let the pleasure fully flood us. If we climb through the window, it's time to assert more control, seize the reigns and return the favor.

And I do just want to stay still and feel detached from my body, a blissful entity of moans and echoes of my booming heartbeat. I want so very much to fully succumb to such a demanding, expert mouth, lose myself in eyes that are almost furious with desire.

But I also know that ache you can so entirely relieve is parallel to yours, thrumming between your legs.

I lean forward, just a little, your mouth moaning and flexing, welcoming the sudden slight push. I run my hand along your back again and around the curve of your cheeks. The suction immediately ratchets up when I begin pumping a finger inside your wet sex. I move with a purpose and speed that, much in the same way you suddenly taking me in did to me, jolts your core a little. You lick around my head more too, a spot I can't take for too long without exploding. You are trying to make me fully give in now.

But, I reach out with my free hand and touch your face. Tender, but with enough force to stop you as I pull myself out from the hot and devouring paradise of your mouth. I tilt your chin up a little so you can meet my gaze better, while my fingers pump faster, making you bite your lower lip. Just that quick few seconds of your teeth pressing down like that with our eyes locked pushes me more.

You don't say a word when my finger retracts from within you, but your eyes are almost begging me to do something. Anything. Just not to stop what has been so naturally set in motion. I guide you to lie down, my face always close. I never want to break our stare as your head silently meets the pillow and your legs are already widening. Hips pushing up just enough for the tip of my hardness to graze your slick hot petals, teasing again.

I plant a slow trail of kisses that begin with your neck and move down to close lips around the hardened buds of your nipples. Although I want to stay there, I continue my travels, savoring your skin's scent along the way. Lower now, the tip of my tongue makes goose-bumps form along your stomach. The whole time, your body writhes a little underneath me, welcoming all I do. I move lower and begin kissing and running my nails along your inner thighs, spreading them even more. Your fragrance is strong tonight, a sweet musk I swear I could get high from inhaling, as if you secrete a drugged fume designed for me and me alone.

My fingers and lips stay just shy of your entrance, massaging the folds and caressing right above them. Even in the dark, I can see how wet you are, how shiny with the slick heated oil of your juices. I almost want to make you beg. Make you crack as you try to do to me. Even though I look and move with a calm you've always admired, below the surface, I'm dying to touch you.

But I know how to be patient, able to hold steady against the storms that desire always threatens to sweep through us. I also know how to lose myself in them. I know this patience always makes us ready. Makes us bodies of light and fire joined, primal elements that must seek out and attempt to consume one another. I fight against the raging scream inside telling me to thrust inside you. I want you to lose yourself first.

You seem to know this, hear me calling out to you in those mysterious regions where two so deeply connected are able to communicate without the need for speech. Your head lifts a little, eyes on mine as I slide my finger inside you, tongue swirling around your swelling clit, a fleshy bud of one of the world's most gorgeous flower.

I never tire of your taste, of my fingers caressing inside your tight tunnel. I always moan from it, the vibrations making your hands grip my hair. My thumb takes over when I sense you getting closer, and I turn my head to the side a little, lips over yours. My tongue moved slowly inside, probing fragrant depths - the deepest kiss I can possibly initiate inside you.

The contrast of my thumb rubbing fast as my tongue goes slow is starting to bring you closer. Your hands ball a little, sending electric tingles through my scalp, the slight pain only serving to make me go faster, refusing to let any calm settle over your nerve endings.

Your body begins to tense and writhe and my thumb matches the speed of my tongue deep in your tight internal valley; your hips a tiny earthquake I've awoken the fault line of. As you release, your sex shudders around my tongue, thighs suddenly clamping around me, the moaning of my name muffled by your thighs against both ears, as if an echo of you cries out for me from another dark room of the house. Your thighs shake, juices hotter than ever, as you pulsate, entirely coating my lips and tongue with a new wave, a new tasty gift.

I withdraw my tongue as your thighs yield, as your gasps calm. I return to you and see your lips are trembling in a small smile, eyes beaming with stars, skin so warm I can feel it radiating from you before touching. Our lips meet in little relaxed kisses, you savoring your taste and mine, shaky fingertips petting my back.

I love you. Those words are true and have been for a long time now. I love your smile, voice, eyes, hair, face, body, mind, heart... I love the similarities we share, but also the contrasts. You know exactly how to make laugh and crack the walls I spent years placing around me so no one could reach for and crush my heart. You know exactly the right way to touch me, whether it's a simple squeeze of a hand or the way you hug and hold me. I love countless things about you, some very easy to identify and many I struggle to find the right words for. I also love that in so many of our private moments, you've shown me that expressing this love, at times, has little to do with words.

And this is one of those moments I love you so much and feel it so powerfully between us.

You're all softness now, welcoming warmth and wetness. And I have to have you. Consume and take you. Fill and possess you.

Your hands cup my face as I begin to guide myself to your heat. You hold my face close to yours, wanting to watch and memorize the pleasure my eyes reflect when entering you. I'm the one overtaken with a gasp and a shudder now, as I always am, when my thick head slides in, a fit almost painfully tight even though you're beyond lubricated. My whisper grazes your ear when I lean down.

"Wrap your legs around me."

I feel them curl around me, becoming a lock I never want to be free from. I inch forward as you work in perfect concert to pull me all the way in, sheathing me inside your fiery depths. I always want to hang on to the way your eyes widen a little and then quickly narrow with pure satisfaction when I enter you. Your legs work in sync with me when I inch more. The slight changes in your breath, your eyes... I know your entire being feels me taking over, becoming a part of you. Or perhaps you are the true catalyst as your depths contort and stretch.

You once said that me being inside you made you feel as if your entire being had scrambled and shifted to accommodate and settle around me, and you’d never quite be put back together the same as you were before. I think, at times, you are the one really taking over and making me a part of you. Absorbing all I am as I hand myself over to you, as you have to me.

I always feel lost inside you at first. Those first few moments when all of me is so tightly encased in you are enough to make me want to explode. But, in those few seconds, stamina and all of my nerve endings bring a part of me into sharp focus while the rest of me loses myself in you. That we maintain any control at all while in the throes of such intensity is yet another one of the mysteries of how people entwine.

Still holding my face, you bring me close for a kiss, tongues humming with moans as I begin to move within you. Our tongues dance in tune to the melody of our bodies, as I feel your heat gripping and squeezing, contoured so wonderfully around me. It's like you want to pull me in even more, trap me for all time. I would be a welcome prisoner.

The friction of our bodies heats the air all around us while we move together. Kisses break at random intervals, but faces always remain near. We’re so close that we feel every breath pulled in and expelled. We seem to feed on it, this intermingling of our breath. It's like we can get drunk from it if we hold it in our lungs long enough.

The faster I begin to thrust, the more you squeeze around me, your own little signal to keep going, go as deep as I can. Your hips rise a little to match my every move, legs still locked tight around me. All time and self-consciousness goes out the window. All I know of existence is the intertwined being we've become, grinding and writhing with and for each other, lighting every place on fire that we let no one know the desires and the hunger of.

Hearts pound like muffled and distant explosions. Breaths grow ragged. I can feel it building in us, a swelling tide that often feels like it's pushing our senses to their loosely defined limits, a sweet agony rising.

You know these cues so well, always ready for me. You squeeze harder, relenting only for a second or two before your walls tighten their absolute grip again. Our eyes never leave each other now. Like me, you want our fixed stares on each other when we finally reach the edge, to memorize the triumph of bringing each other to an overwhelming climax.

I know I can't hold on. My entire system is screaming for release as you begin to clamp around me over and over like I'm inside of an escalating heartbeat. Everything in my vision seems to narrow again to a pinpoint that is just wide enough to see your face, see the anticipation as you bite your lip. The intensity that builds in me now was a foreign sensation until we met. Before, there was always pleasure, but something missing. With you, I never fail to entirely lose myself when reaching the apex.

Each clench elicits louder moans as I begin to tense up all over, sweet pain almost like the burn right before a muscle cramp. Your legs shaking around me tell me you're reaching your edge too, as you writhe below me.

I don't just spill, but feel my seed frantically rocketing out of me, in what seems like endless thick ropes plumbing depths in you even my hardness can't reach, as your sex squeezes and milks every last drop I can give.

Barely able to move, everything in me feels raw, exposed, and sensitive. Your arms cradle me and my head just rests on your neck as I calm with each breath, each one inhaling the scent of your hair, our bodies still randomly trembling from our powerful release. They're welcome aftershocks that we both share now.

I collapse on you, muscles limp, still joined. You always want to keep me inside of you for as long as possible, while stroking every inch of bare skin that you can reach, soothing me in the quiet afterglow. Every kiss in this space of time is long, languorous, and lazy. Content in the knowledge that we can drift into sleep if we wish, or just cuddle this way for now, enjoying the soundtrack of breath and calming heartbeats.

Soon, we're snuggling, spooned on our sides, facing one another, legs entwined like braided ropes. Our hearts have slowed down to patient thuds, careless of the exact hour or the cold. Existing under these blankets together is the only thing that matters.

You've been petting my face for a while now. It almost sounds like your fingertips are gently running along sandpaper as you stroke my cheek and look into my eyes. I once asked why you like doing that so much. You smiled sweetly and simply said you love the feeling. That you love the way my eyelids close slightly from the warm caress as your palm rests and moves up and down. You said I don't look so serious then, that I'm relaxed. It's true.

It's always something so intimate to me, so private, to let one touch that way around a nexus of so many senses. I never tell you how much I love it. I think you see how much I do each time. I also don't want anything to interrupt this, to break the glimpses I'll catch from you of pure adoration radiating in your eyes. It's as if your hand and the spiralling grooves imprinted upon them are trying to memorize the textures that I'm built from. The curves, the skin, and dark stubble of my face.

It's these times I truly know words can only say so much, that sometimes they can be useless noise floating around scenes better left in the hands of two sharing the quiet. Your touch alone writes reams of poetry. My arm draped around your hip is a sonnet. They're written in a language we all understand.

That's the last thought passing through my head as I drift off; that we don't really need words for some important things. The small moments we share, the things we feel and see in the other... words are hard to find for them because maybe we're not meant to. It would take away time better spent just being close together, like now.

I wake up for only a few minutes later on, so relaxed that the mattress beneath hardly feels real, like we're hovering in the air, wrapped up together. Your head is on my chest, a pillow you're fond of several nights a week. It's that very still hour right before dawn, when the skies are dark but edged with shimmers of light. The street looks so cold, drenched in dark blue and a shiny layer of frost. Whenever the weather is this way outside, everything looks so fragile and made of ice, like the slightest sound or movement could crack the entire world. At least we're safe and warm here.

I tell you that by holding you just a little tighter, a message like a whisper as you sleep.

Telling you I love you. That this is exactly where I always long to be.