For E.
I miss the rightness of his lips against mine. His sweat. The fall of limbs and wet, searing heat of us, the sun sneaking up to rise on us, or the jumbled view of fogged-up car windows, only half a moon winking and the shadow of a very confused interloping jogger. I miss being so desperate, so needful of him I could scream, could bite his flesh from his bones to get at him faster. I just fucking miss him.
The spray of orange and brown freckles on his shoulder. There's more on the right than the left. I sink my teeth into them, hard, until he yells and fends me off. And then I lick and kiss, waiting until he's off-guard to bite again. Because I love the way he writhes, like I'm torturing him and he doesn't want it to stop. Knowing it's wrong is half the fun... makes us want to do it more.
It's worst when he's gone. The lack of him-no sweet gingery hair, no freckles and milky skin blocking out half my line of sight because he's so fucking tall. Little pink nubs of nipples and the trail of scratches leading down his back to that sweet, pert ass. Long legs kicking, wrapping around me, giving in. Man melts against me-like I might absorb him if he could only get soft enough, relax enough, liquify his bones and dissolve completely. I wouldn't be adverse to the idea.
I want his unsure hands. His inexpert dick. Awkward, fumbling hips and shy laughs and peeking through lashes as though unsure if he's wrong or right or just a fool in so much love. He surely doesn't know.
I want him in bed, slow and sure. On his back and feeling every second. I want him to know, to feel the fluttering of my mind with my heart as he holds it in his hand. I don't think he knows. He thinks its normal, the feeling when we're together, like I'm underwater and can't find up. Like I'll drown if I'm not with him forever-clothes off, sweaty, grunting, out of my mind when I come with him. Because there's no other way. Nothing's as good. Nothing, anymore.
Every fantasy is a shadow compared to him, less than the darkness of stubble at the back of his jaw. Nothing is right save him: fawn speckled limbs, insecurity and big eyes peering through the dark, lips falling open in the sweetest exclamations that ever were; calls for God and Jesus, and me. The fierceness and love in his eyes. It's unforgettable, seared into my soul. No one will ever touch that. Just him. He's mine. And I'm his now, given over. Completely.