(no subject)

[nowiammyself]

you kissed me and the floodgates opened. my desire came raging out. my heart is pandora’s box ripped open.

you lingered on my mind and i obsessed over when we would kiss next.

the first time we kissed you were sitting up straight on my blue couch and my legs were stretched across your lap. you smelled so good but i didn’t tell you. i simply inhaled your scent and let it dance around in my lungs and settle in. i wanted it to stay, like i wanted you to stay.

you touched my skin hesitantly at first, like how a child sneaks a glance at the gifts under the tree on christmas morning, and then you touched me more confidently. first the skin on my legs, sweatpants riding up my calves, then my exposed torso, and i didn’t stop you.

i didn’t know if you would be brave enough to kiss me, but you were. you were sitting up. i was laying down. you bent over and lightly dove towards me.

the first time you kissed me all i heard was your heavy breathing and all i felt was the kink in my neck from the way my head was pressed against blue arm of the couch. your heavy respiration, your flat nose pressed against the skin on my face, your hands sneaking under my shirt and under my sports bra.

the next time you came over you kissed me so good i didn’t hear your breathing. i focused on how you kiss me, how you bit my lip gently with each inhale, hard enough that i felt your teeth but light enough you didn’t hurt me. your teeth felt smooth against my tongue. i looked at your teeth each time you smile, a big white smile that illuminates your entire face. one canine came in crooked and overlaps the tooth to its side. i looked at it each time you smile, but i didn’t remember to run my tongue over it.

sex is scary, and i was scared of you. it’s strange how a tired old body can feel brand new. i wanted to feel you everywhere. your skin, so smooth. my touch, uncertain. was i touching you correctly? was i doing it right? was i doing it wrong? i tried to nibble your ear, to bite your collarbone, to touch you the way i’ve touched the men before you, but you didn’t let me. my hands trembled nervously, fumbled with your body as you fumbled with mine. your skin felt so smooth, addictingly smooth, i didn’t want to stop touching. it felt tight over your biceps, taut over your abs. even after it ended, i reached for you while you were sleeping.

in the dark i searched for your hand and i laced my fingers with yours. i ran my hands through your hair. your long hair tickled my face and mine tickled yours, tangled together. i wanted to sleep, but i didn’t want to stop touching you. i reached for you at night. i reached for you in the morning, hoping you’d stir so i could climb on top of you and kiss your collarbone, and then your neck, and then your mouth, feel your stubble scrap against my face as my hand traveled down your body.

i liked talking to you, the stories we’d exchange when you stopped joking and stripped down to sincerity, the way you’d eagerly tell me about yourself.

you stayed over one night and brought pajamas, toothbrush and toothpaste. from your backpack you took out avocados and eggs. my heart melted. proof you wanted to stay.

at your house you gave me a toothbrush and i thought that i was here to stay, at least for a little while longer.

i didn’t want much, just a few more nights of you stretched out on my sheets. i wanted to look at your skin and memorize the scars, stare at the tattoo on your back and trace it with my finger the way you touched mine, but more slowly. in the morning when we’d walk around town, through the streets of old buildings and we’d both say we love this city, i wanted to hold your hand. i wanted to hold your smooth hand in my own, but i was too scared you wouldn’t want it, and then you said you didn't want it.

i wanted to be soft with you, as soft as your skin beneath my scared fingers as i touched you slowly, but you wouldn’t let me.