There’s a freedom in the space without words.

The butterflies in my stomach, the weight of your body pinning mine. The muffled gasps against your hand.

I had the overwhelming desire to bite at your fingertips, to pull your thumb between my lips and suck at it gently. To stifle my sounds with your skin as I stifled my desire with it.

In the dark, half-dressed still. Progressed beyond all teasing conversation, all skittish admission of what is comfortable for you and what is not. What is beyond the line. It made me crave a nakedness with you. Not a body nakedness, but a soul nakedness. To be that deeply intimate.

And later, when you showered, I wanted to sit on the edge of your bed and make you late for your trip by pulling you to me and tasting you one time before you left.


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