Sunday 21 July 2019

I could just snap my fingers and lick my lips and he wouldn't even need his imagination anymore.

He leaned me back just enough for my hair to brush the bed. I am still suspended in his arms a foot away from the safety of my quilts, from earth. From the cool night air that surrounds us even as he radiates heat like the sun.

Say when. 

Never!

And he laughs with the most joyful sound. We've been devouring each other since sundown. My bangs are plastered to my forehead. His hair is half out of the bun he hastily put it into, and he looks like a wild man. Feral. Dangerous.

Also stupidly handsome and content and amazing and mine. All mine though he said again this morning I was free to do whatever I needed to do.

He plays an awful game and I like it.

If you could go to anyone right now, who and where. 

I think about it for a minute. I think about lying. I think about telling the truth. I think about angrily reminding him that this is why we fight. This is why I make and break more boundaries than I can keep. That this is the thing that keeps me recidivist, fucked up and ruined.

Answer without thinking. 

New Jake. 

Where?

Jesus, Lochlan. 

Tell me. He is hot and bothered. Gee. Me, too.

His garage. Up against the workbench. 

He's holding you up. 

Yes. Lochlan, I don-

He never even puts you down. He's got you in his hands-

Lochlan-

But he doesn't hear me. He's gone so far ahead, and I'm never going to catch up. I'm not even sure I want to right now. He's gone to a place I don't think I want to be.