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Welcome!
I have been waiting for an eternity to meet you, son! I see you wiggle in front of me. I gaze into your eyes and I want to know you. I hope you will learn something about me too. I have to remind myself not to think ahead, though it is very hard to control my excitement. I have so many stories to tell you.
Sitting across each other, they breathed in unison.
Their chests rose and fell in smooth motions.
Their eyes–unwavering, filled with unspoken words and emotions.
Their hands–lightly touching each other.
Fingers, once intertwined, now aimlessly traversing the lengths of each others’ bodies. Their lips, moist and quivering. Quivering with words, reaching for each other, hungry for what once was.
The air in the room was tense.
Is there anything like ‘too much love’? Love for ‘someone’ and ‘for many’?
There must be.
In my case, I can never figure if it’s love or just a massive blob of habit, obsession and immense liking. I would say that I love you, and I’d do everything to keep you happy, worship the sand at your feet, yet I’d still have more feelings to share… a greater feeling for someone else.
A massive blob, indeed. A blob of emotions, lust, anger, desperation, and an idea of love.
An elusive idea of love. The more I chase it, the farther it seems.
Love unconditionally. Be afraid of hurt.
Don’t think I can take it one more time; too scared to repose faith in another person.
What do you love?
The touch of love? The happiness it brings?… or the bitter truth that you’d rather have someone to depend on?
The touch of it.
Nothing like when he can make the hair on the back of my neck stand with a minor brush against me. I like the sight of it. I know my soul’s found its home when I look at him.
The warmth of a hug. The smell of the nape of a neck, dappled in the golden rays of the setting sun.
The tension of a closed setting.
The apple of a shoulder bared, intensely biteable. Sexual. Yet innocent. But, should be nibbled; pain’s never pleasure after a point.
A hint of chest hair, to be tugged at gently. Soft.
Curves, to be caressed, to hold her by, closer. Goosebumps to sense through his fingertips.
A timid urgency in her voice. A need for him so bad, too scared to say it, too sacred to ruin it.
A gentle nod of acceptance. Eyes to be kissed. Cheeks to be worshiped, a neck to be caressed by his lips alone.
Fingers running down her back, a forced kiss on her throat, a fierce hug, a desire to give in, but just not yet.
Moments of palpitation, of waiting, beads of sweat pouring down while the mind battles hitherto unknown desires.
Smells, feelings that were no more just in the air, but palpable, to be able to be pushed away, like inhibitions.
Fingers twirl, around each others’, a sultry game of seduction to figure out the next move.
Heads close in, whispers of dirty lists and lust, flashes of smiles, and familiarity. Noses rustle, eyelashes flutter, the heart aches to get closer… just a little bit more.
Sweat makes their movements easier, their limbs in confused plaits around each other, seeking entry, seeking a release to the blood pounding in their ears.
This love would hurt, but it would free them.
…because nothing else felt like them. A feeling they got only from each other’s flaming, wanting presence.
They didn’t want to know anything else anymore. They had found their temple.
She had waited too long for this. She wanted pain, to be made aware; that this was immensely more significant than anything else she would ever be a part of.
He slapped her, held her hips down, straddled her like an animal to be tamed. She gave in eventually, but not without a fight. She wanted him to want her.
He kissed her lips, they were one. They lived for this feeling. The smell of her sex made him smile.
They had nothing to hide.
She clutched at him hard, drowning in his arms, holding on tight like he was her life jacket, and in that moment he saw it.
This was the happiness they had sought all along.
He teased her aching nipples with his tongue, his five o’ clock shadow grazing over her skin made her toes curl.
She bit her lips, at the touch of his tongue, her mind conjuring ideas, ideas she couldn’t bring herself to express. She fought to appease her orifices that felt jealous of her nipples.
He held her back down, by her hair, her hands trapped in an odd tangle. He touched her sex, she was ashamed at her wetness, she wanted to squeeze her legs together, but her hips were already moving to the rhythm of his fingers.
She wanted to realize the magnitude of pleasure she was feeling but her mind lost her; it was busy cogitating darker whims. She wanted to live the moment, arrest it in her memory forever; yet, a chill ran down her spine when she thought of what was coming next.
He pushed his hardness against her, knowing her doubts, doubting himself, yet the warm wetness beckoned, he rubbed it against her clit to make her want it more.
She cried out his name, she asked him to take possession of her wholly and completely.
She thought of violence and blood, glory and pain. His hands still held her down, his lips on hers to calm her down.
A sharp, searing pain.
He was in her, he was part of her, and her silent screams . She had brought blood on his back with her nails, and there was a tiny tear when she winced with the pain; it had been so long.
So long.
He was afraid of hurting her, and she coaxed him to move, her palms over his bottom, pressing him deep and pushing him out.
With every thrust, she felt more satiated, thinking of all the longing and how this moment was every bit worth it.
He saw relief on her face, he whispered sweet nothings, he called her by her name, the name he’d given her. She melted, and gave into the rhythm, she was a woman again.
A hard climax, first him, then her, the promise of death from a pounding heart. Shudders that begged not to stop. Silence, a sigh followed by another.
He couldn’t get himself to say it, they’d just given each other a part of themselves.
She lay there spent, in a wasted heap. The pain brought on her lips a smile of joy she had known only in that moment.
She buried her head in his chest, she needn’t say anything more.
Yet, she whispered, “Don’t leave me”.
There were tears in her eyes.
Her life depended on the answer.
He knew he was embracing her soul, her body was his from moments before.
“Don’t leave”, she asked him again, as he took her again, looking deep into his eyes, holding him away as he moved in her, so he could see what he had made her.
She was his Goddess. She screamed his name every time she climaxed. The God she called out in their coupling, was him.
She came over and over, they kept waking up in each other’s arms, still hard, still wet, still moving, the rays of dawn, sneaked into their privacy, but it didn’t matter.
He knew he had to leave, but he couldn’t tell her that. He wasn’t the answer to everything she needed, but for that night, he was her savior, her knight, he was her everything.
She didn’t let the awareness of his imminent departure sneak up to her.
He knew he’d come back for her; she was bound to him forever.
Their bodies ached, and reeked of each other. Tired, she lay on his chest, her breasts crushed against his chest, his fingers still teasing her back, her neck, her hair, her ears.
She clung to him, her eyes seeking assurance that this moment would last forever.
He called her by her name, looking into her seeking eyes, and told her he was hers.
Her mind in constant denial of the impending detachment, yet she wanted to believe his words. This one piece of information validated her existence.
He kissed her forehead, and got dressed. She lay back in her nakedness, aware of her soreness and smiling sadly.
He said “Goodbye, for now. I will come back for you.”
She asked him to stay for the moment or to never come back again. She had fought her inner demons for way too long, she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life doing it.
He considered it. Tumultuous thoughts. Battles raged in his head as he decided.
“Yes.”
He got her robe and asked her to get dressed. She was going away with him, her ultimatum and fake bravado had worked.
She heard this and cried. Or laughed. She didn’t know.
Euphoria? Hysteria? It didn’t matter.
He knew the path would be difficult, but she’d be with him for the ride. Her hyperventilating chest gave him the answer he needed. Her heartbeat rang in his ears.
She was at a loss of words.
“Come home. Stay awhile.” He said. “You’re no longer yourself, we’re us.”
They walked into the balcony, her hands still seeking his now familiar body. He held her close.
The future seemed…
- Written with an anonymous friend on Twitter, and then severely edited by @badaboomtheory who is on a break from… Twitter.
Together, we are an ocean not a river.
And that is depressing. Also shows us that there’s no land in sight.
There is the horizon on one side, and the beach on the other; what would you choose?
I don’t see it. There’s no end to the horizon.
Isn’t that the best part? You keep looking at, thinking the end is near.
I don’t want to go back to the beach. The horizon never-ending will just demotivate me. It’s easier to be the ocean, or on a raft in it.
Then, the best thing to do is give up. Look at the sky above. Let yourself go, let the ocean engulf you on all possible sides.
But I can’t swim. Drowning’s the answer. To drown in my depression. Raise me up from the dead, be a Jesus to me; someone.
Drown yourself. Feel the pain. Feel the struggle. Come up. Feel glad. Feel happy to be alive. Find the choice and live with it
Breathing’s difficult. Perhaps the sadness is my oxygen.
Sadness is just the blood running through your veins. Like alcohol. It needs to be replaced. With happiness, let me fill you. Let me be the elixir.
Let me wallow. Let me sink. Pacify me with your smile, your joy, your daily living. Cast a loving eye, your fingers through my tousled hair, a sad reprimand at the state of my life, but… let me be. I’ll worship the ground you walk on, I’ll remember you with every drop of the rain, let me rejoice in your happiness, while I cringe in my pain.
Let’s make a deal, shall we? Take your time to be you but with me, be with me, happy as I want you to be. Change you, I don’t want to. But the sight of you unhappy makes me cringe.
But I’m me with you. I smile when I’m with you. I’m never unhappy when with you. You are the calm, in my storm plagued soul.
Will the storm never end? Will you be never be fully happy?
Never. I’ve stopped seeking. The disquiet is a way of life. Sit by me, let me tell you a tale with my sad eyes.
Tell me all you want. Tell me everything about you. Tell me your secrets. Tell me your fears. Make me yours. Let me be yours.
The night’s still young, come a little closer, let me whisper. We have some wine.
There, there.
- Written with the fiesty @mizarcle
Lust.
Overwhelming.
To always be in touch.
To have someone’s fingers, skin, body against yours all the time.
Claustrophobia. Peace, that you’re never alone.
Bodily fluids, dirty, sacred, familiar, senses.
Pleasure, pressure, to be stimulated at will, and against it.
Forced explosions in your head, some given into, a gasp of relief at release.
There’s someone there. You reach out. A touch; intimate.
You learn passion with each fold.
Hands as your shield.
You’re a slave to these that encompass you.
Bidding you to do their will with the promise of rest.
Sleep, disturbed, surrounded by whorls, the same and then different.
Hold on to each other, comfort. No escape. This is your freedom.
You are one. Satisfy your need for companionship, for them to watch.
Another hand reaches, you’re naked, but there’s no shame. This is who you are.
They watch, fondle, keep, guide; tenderly, yet strict, persistent.
Hands that protect; within a grasp.
Curl up tight. Exhale. Breath.
Give in. This may tickle, never hurt.
This is Lust 101.
Welcome.
Wrote this in a moment of weakness after reading the inimitable @lilmississues’s tweets. You should still go and read her blog.
But going on. Snippets of a half conversation. Love, unconventional, perhaps.
The first part by me. Second by her. Anyone who wants to merge these lines into one big saga, can… and should.
——————————————————————————————————-
I’d give you more time if I knew what pleased you. I’d like to be friends but yet there’s this fear of too much. A real shame that was, because he knew she was always around. Bigger than his thoughts.
A life of loneliness enforced on self. She hated herself, yet loved it too much because of no strings. But yet, there were a few that held. He watched, he fell in love everyday, he kept silent, she was a goddess to him and she never knew. Hilarious. The Gods knew how to joke.
She needed love. Not a barter. There were hugs, warm ones she would hold on to for just a little longer. Never lasted. She stopped seeking. She was loved, there were poems, songs and letters written to her every single minute, yet unsent. She brought men to their knees.
Where would she go but into herself. It was only she who could lift her spirits, and free her soul. She threw the past away, again. There’s never another person who can promise you that they’ll love you enough; like the person you really want to love you.
Death laughed. He enjoyed her vivacity and joy. But it was not time. She had a long, happy life to live, just as soon as she caught herself. The joy in her voice wrought pleasure, and pain and joy he could not describe. She was so high above, it didn’t make sense why she’d want to say hello.
She loved someone else. He realized. She didn’t know he existed.
He tried reaching out, touching her mind, he just felt he had no sense of propriety. He was ashamed, her circle didn’t consist of him, and yet he was part of some inner circle and the roaming crowd. He didn’t know what he saw in her. She never let him too close. He was relieved yet a little disappointed. Perhaps, he was just curious and wanted to be her pet.
He didn’t want anything from her. Just to know that he was accepted. And that he could help her be who she really wanted to be. He saw so much potential, and life. He wished he could scream it into her face. He loved her more than a friend. But she’d never understand love like that.
He tried being crass, he tried being a gentleman, he tried being a fiend, he tried being a lover, he tried being himself. He told her he adored her, but she would never understand what he saw. She called him weird. He went back to his circle, the outer one, where he belonged. Waiting. Knowing that when she really found herself, she’d find him or forget him. He loved being a fly on the wall. Unswatted.
He held her close, against a wall, he breathed warmly on her neck, he whispered her name into her ear, he asked her to want him, to need him and know that they could never be together. She smiled.
He wasn’t giving up anything for her, she would never do that for him a stranger, she left knowing she was loved, loved beyond what she could never fathom, yet she resisted the urge to grab him and slap him, bring him to his knees, he had brought her down on hers instead. She was left breathless by how much she realized.
He felt empty, as she left. Her lips grazing against his drained him of all the feeling he had left. He hoped she’d taken part of him as she sidled past with a smile. This was useless otherwise. They were lovers, but they never knew. She’d left her mark on him, indelible. The warmth they shared, their perfumes merged into one single breath. A quick exchange of a promise. A lie, for a lie.
She’d be alone, but never when he was around, she’d scream “Forever Alone” to the world, but she’d know she’d never be what she claimed. He watched, like a close hug, a warm sweater, a whisper away, an earworm lullaby. She slept fitfully. Everytime she went into a fit of depression, he’d forget his woes, to wish, hoping she’d get out of it. He was the shield she never wanted. They could never be friends, he felt too much. She was never that strong enough to get close.
It was never that she had a shield around, it was him. Her fears, her tears, could never be his, she’d never let them be anyone else’s, but hers. Selfish as she was, she was right to do so, but the night was their’s, they nestled in each others dreams, laughing over never ending cups of coffee, looking at the world pass by in one dream, making love in another, chasing each other playfully in yet another.
He built her a castle of dreams, a world of imagination, where she was queen, searching for an unseen king. He loved her with everything he had, and yet, he stayed out of that kingdom, preferring to watch from afar. She was protected, she was happy, she heard his comforting voice when she was alone. She could reach out to him when she wanted, his baritone filling her emptiness with warmth, kindness and tender love.
She was empty, yet satisfied, she didn’t have her ending, but she settled. She knew who she was, she knew she was loved, she knew she loved herself. Happiness was hers. She lived. There were no endings, only the beginning of another day. She looked forward to waking up to the sun’s rays.
If they only knew what I see, if you only knew what I see in you.
—————————————————————————————————————–
Her listless face lurked in the shadows, hiding the tears and scars he had left behind. She didnt cry for him. She didnt know him. Saddened by their harmony, the voices in her head knew it was time for her to go. For her to let go. She let go.
He wanted her, yet he couldnt have her. not because he was already committed but because she didnt know he existed. She didnt care for anybody, she knew no one could love er. Or keep up with her. She knew she was alone and she smiled.
She knew that anyone man she had ever been with had wanted to use her. He didnt love her and he certainly didnt find her attractive. Meat. She wore a mask. The world thought she was special. She felt worthless. It was only a matter of time before she ran away from it all. She was empty. She could run. But there was no destiny. She hated herself. Despised even. She just wanted to hear those words. She was tired of the people around her putting her in the limelight. They didnt know her. She was selfish. She wanted death to be only hers.
She lay there yearning. She didnt know what for. Solitude perhaps. All she felt right now was loneliness. Could he hear her? She reached out and put her hand to her face. The lone left scar reminded her of her past, of the abuse she received. She had no remorse. How could anyone love her? Why would anyone love her? She was no one.
She was talked about, she knew that much. They knew she was easy. She was their escape but never their keep. She wanted to be kept. Did she intimidate them? Were they afraid of her? Didnt they see the need in her eyes, in her voice? She sang to them, everyday. She loved the earth. The mud between her toes, the waves washing up against her skin. She thought of him. He didnt know she existed.
She watched him from a distance. Sometimes following his movement. She hid behind her veil of strength. She wasnt sure what she felt. She saw him walk towards her. She wondered who stood behind her. Who was his eyes searching for? She wanted to reach out but stopped.
She walked away with some sort of feeling that day. Had he really seen her? He was with someone. She felt stupid. She closed her eyes. She dreamed that night of him. She saw him pick her up off the ground. How did she let that happen? She didnt want to see him again. She locked herself indoors. She cut the world away from her. She didnt deserve anything.
She hated how he made her feel for that minute. That hour. That night. She held her heart and squeezed it dry of any emotion. She didnt want to keep him hoping for something that wasnt there. She knew her worth. It was nothing. He deserved better. He scared her. She’d been here before. His perfume seemed familiar. She liked the control he had over her in that moment. She pushed him away. Far away.
She strolled. Her first ever, she never strolled. Her gait spoke of fun. She wasnt convinced but this was her moment. She let it crawl. She realized. How unknowingly she played. She played him out just like she had played the rest. She felt peaceful. Would he figure it out? When they touched, did he feel the how hollow and cold she was? He didnt. How could he? he’d never know how alone she was meant to be. He couldnt mess with destiny. She lived that night. With him.
It was only time that would show her who to pry on next. He was forgotten. Mostly because she didnt want to know the ending. She was too immersed in his aura. She feared for her dormant heart. She didnt want to know how this ended.
Her thoughts are fueled by his. Her action, her own. Her life is chaos. But tonight belongs to him.
This is a wonderful story written by my friend @TheReluctantMom on her blog. This is reproduced faithfully here since it was partially inspired by myself and the one. (Liberty and all that.). Kindly post all comments at her blog post, right here.
*
(This is a work of fiction)
What’s a good love story made of, he asked her. Every kind of extreme, she said. But that’s bound to end, he countered. Would you rather it went on for ever, she asked. “I like love stories to have an ending, preferably not the ever after kind,” she finished and continued to stare into the sea. Afternoon waves ate up the silence that the finality of her preference brought.
What a cliché we are, he thought. A good head taller than her, his broad shoulders and her sharp, petite ones. His fair to her dark. His earthiness to her pointed edges. Sitting by the sea in typical couple fashion. Except, it was a hot afternoon and the Marina was practically empty but for a few couples dotting the simmering sand, dupattas shared over two heads that were too close, yet not close enough. Couples with more money were parked in the parking lot, facing away from the road looking at the blinding expanse of hot dirty sand and the languid sea. Except, they were not love-struck. Except, at the first sign of trouble, they’d blame each other violently, burst into spontaneous flames and singe everything around them. Till, realizing the lackluster life that ash led, one of them would gather up the will to beat one’s wings and resurrect the other. Soon, they’d be back at the Marina, switching the engine on and off for the air conditioner, sometimes hot for each other, sometimes hot from the beach.
Today, she had called. Let’s go, she had said and he had never been able to say no. Just as she never could. The drive invariably made them want to give up on this thing they called love; for they couldn’t decide whether they should use the time to listen to music together, an act of foreplay like none other; or to talk to each other – a stimulation entirely different. But this time around, she turned up the sound and listened without moving a muscle, like if she sat still enough she’d become the screaming, ragged voice of the lead singer. You’re looking for a fight, he said. She looked at him and in that moment she was an ordinary girl, just like scores of women who look at the men they choose to be with and roll their eyes. In that instant, he wanted to pull over and kiss her. But roads in Madras in the middle of the day don’t allow for that sort of romanticism. He’d just have to wait till she was done fighting. Maybe more fun then, too, he grinned secretly.
Turning into the beach road, he always felt he had entered another city altogether suddenly. Wide, calm, clean roads, sweeping expanse of beach and a sea that was mostly murky. No romance here either. Oh well, he sighed, and parked, switching off the engine. She swept up her hair off her neck and tied it up, folding one leg under her, continuing to gaze out the window. So sad, no, these couples, they’ve got to sit on the hot sand to get some privacy, she said. And we have to waste petrol to do the same, he said. She smirked. You should thank your stars I find you funny, she said. The waves growled again, coming forward to claim their morsel of silence. He almost let it pass when a bird that swooped into the sea stole a heartbeat. That white flash of hunter slicing into the water rooted him, even as it undid him. If they hadn’t been sitting in the car, he’d be at her feet, dissolved and undone, worshipping her just as the waves did the dirty, giving shore. I do, he said. Do what? She had already forgotten. I do thank my stars you find me funny; and everything else that you find me. Just that you found me, he said and took her hand. She continued looking resolutely out of the window, but her hands were telling him things her eyes and her mouth weren’t. You know I don’t believe in happily ever after, right? He told her he knew that and it was one of the things that kept him on his toes. So you won’t pine away when I move on? Who says you’re going to, he countered. Hypothetically speaking. These things happen you know, she said, turning the full impact of her gaze, burnt from staring too long in the sun. If his skin wasn’t already burnt, he’d be in agony. Whoa, this is a big one, he thought waiting for her weaponry to come out and bruise him, nervous but mostly defenceless.
Three years I waited for you to see sense and come back to me, she said. Ah, so that’s what this is about, he said. “Look, I am sorry, I honestly thought you’d moved along because when I called…” Shhh, she said, that’s not what this is about. Three years when I knew a freedom that I haven’t known before or hence, three years when my confidence soared and I felt appreciated, three years of not thinking about how to handle you, she paused for breath. And he was fast losing his; his measures hadn’t worked after all. It was like the dread that he lived with every day, an almost person, was becoming real. She was leaving him, like he had left her. “I am sorry.” I said shhhh, it’s not an apology I am looking for. Three years I went everywhere on my own and found no one was better company than me, three whole years of growing up. Then you came back. Did you even notice me hesitate before I took you back in my life, she asked and continued without waiting for an answer. I spent three years in hell, you know. Heaven is not having the freedom to do what you want, it’s the freedom to be free of you. There’s only two things I couldn’t get rid of about you. Your ghost in my breath and that lock, she said. And touched his left shoulder lightly with the back of her hand. In an instant, his heart broke. She wanted to get rid of the lock and key. He reached over, sliding the neck of her blouse till her biscuit shoulder was bare. There it was – a dancing lock, securely couched in notes of a melody, because what good would their love be without the music. She gently reclaimed her shoulder, reaching out to reveal his. The key. I wish we’d waited to get these done, she said almost to herself, staring intently at it. Just for this, we should stay together, no, she giggled, otherwise we’ll have to go searching for new locks and keys. But I am not going anywhere, he said, puzzled, I thought you were. I am, she said, turning away. She then untangled herself from the knots she had gotten herself into, stretched her hands and got out of the car. She walked a distance, hot sand slipping through shoes, under her soles. She dialed a number; the hot breeze slid black strands across her moving lips. She said into the phone, facing a loud, lazy sea, “What’s a good love story made of? Every kind of extreme. Marry me.” In the car, he grinned into the phone and said yes.
Note: This story is inspired (only inspired) by tattoos that @nelsonnium and @phulkadots sport, which they have graciously given me the privilege of knowing about.
Also, disclaimer: this is NOT their story.
Late nights always bring about the emotional fool in me. So when @LilMissIssues tweeted, “I’m breaking up with you.”, I sensed a story or at least a dialogue, that’d lead to apology sex or tears due to the lack of it. What happened is for you to read and find out. More of her work you can find here!
What I added to the conversation is in italics.
*
I’m breaking up with you. Stay longer. I wish i could but I can’t. The dreams I dream are bigger, the road I tread on will hurt you. Hurt me if you may. Stay if you need to stay. But, you’re always awaited for. Eagerly. You’ve left once before, why again?
I fear breaking you with my touch. Unraveling you with my heart. I’ll leave every time that happens because you are perfect. You cannot call me perfect and leave. You make me perfect. We’re imperfect without each other. I’m not me without you.
I make you bleed. You feel alive with me, passionate. But it will destroy you slowly. I want you around. I must go. For you. You leave me helpless and bleeding. How effortlessly do you turn the blade that breaks all ties and cuts my veins.
You killed me when I first met you with her. Our affair is a secret. A secret that I have locked away until tonight. And yet, you come back. Our affair is the real relationship. This is love. You know I’m willing to leave all for you. Yes, but you must also be willing to leave me. Leave the shine of your sun, the light of your moon, the love of your life.
I cannot bring myself to doing that. I’ve lived life without you before. I cannot go back to being half the person I was. I’ve never had a comfort zone with you, I’ve always thought of we before me. I’m willing to die again to change. Stay…
You bring the night into my life, the shade to my sunlight. You make me warm, safe, loved. I fear you. A hug is all I ask. You engulf my senses, let me whisper my need for you into your ear. There are no more tears to shed. You take everything I am with you when you leave. Are insecurities greater than our love? We are the answer to each other.
I will forever be with you… in mind and soul, my body can’t stay. It hums a different tune. Please don’t leave me, too. And yet you leave me incomplete, like before. I’m helpless like a child. Soulmates are never meant to be. Your love is harsh.
But it is true. My last breath is for you. Farewell.
Leave if you must, my love. My soul tires of begging for a life. Hope is never-ending and free. Please give me all or none. You have consumed me. I have nowhere to go. My soul is your soul, my heart, yours. My life is over. We will go on forever.
Stay till the morning, in my arms. Dry your tears, sleep awhile, and listen to my heart beat for you? A last lullaby? I can not fight that. You give me no reason but to. Protect me from my demons while i sleep, finally. One last time.
Sleep tight my love. Goodnight and farewell indeed…
I shan’t see you in the morn.
***
(Love that this tweet-story-writing thing has really taken off, kind of eagerly waiting for it to become overkill.)
Thank you, M.
Another thing written by myself and the lovely @stormyaffairs. You can read more of her work here.
The curve of her back guides him to places he needs to explore.
He looks in reverent fascination, as his hand is led to distant, unknown temples of pleasure.
His lips can’t get enough of the taste, his fingers always reaching out, digging into her flesh, showing her his hunger, yet leaving no marks on the temple of the deity he worships.
She is pleased with his longing, pleased with his tender touch that belies the violent passion that strains at the leash. She lets him dig and she lets him claw, feigning indifference, teasing.
Her fingers dig into his back, leaving tiger claw marks, she asks him to take her, yet pushes him back to watch his need to be in her, knowing every second she makes him wait means more urgency, more passion in every move he makes.
He struggles against her hands that hold him back, and gently pushes them back and reassures her writhing body by whispering into her ears, beseeching her to give in to his need.
She nods vaguely, hoping her signals would be mixed, but he is beyond seeing. He wants. He badly, madly wants. She knows. She gives in.
Warm, audible breaths.
They move to a rhythm, then to no particular tune, always falling in sync, their bodies as one, a lustful, loving, sweaty unity.
And then rain, relief and tears. Uninhibited, unguarded, unafraid sheddings to witness and whet this unbridled play of passion.
She quivers and falls back, and gives in to the impending explosions in her head, and goes into a place unknown, yet darkly red, throbbing and familiar.
He knows of her story and he knows of her pain, but he lets the tears flow, he lets the storm pass. He knows she turns to him for the calm. She always does.
He strokes her head for hours; strokes till the pain of her past is gone, strokes till the love of now returns.
She feels loved, she feels strong. She gets up and leaves, unbreaking the sacred silence of their ritual.
He looks on, but she does not turn around, secure in the knowledge that he will always be there and waiting.
