I love you. I love you I love you I love you. No commas. No periods. On and on forever, until the words no longer make any sense. Until I've run out of breath. Until my lips are dry and cracked from mouthing the sentiment. My chest is swollen with it. Broken. Spilling and pouring.
Your hands are in your hair, and you've no idea I'm watching. I'm watching your fingers curl in and out of the black tendrils of it as it spills toward the book you're reading. Thick and heavy and old, sprawled open on a table covered in papers. Papers covered in writing. Writing from your hands. I love it for being yours.
Your hands are on your face, with their long fingers curled along the solid angling of your jaw. I watch the pad of your thumb slide past the cleft in your chin to catch on your lower lip. You're red with frustration, but I do not think that languishing over the book will provide your answers, my love. You see me watching. The green of your eyes gathers all of my attention, and I am distracted from your hands, from your thumb at the chip in your tooth. You smile, and it makes me smile, and I think it again. I love you.
You're upon me with nothing more than this exchange of glances, and of smiles. Here with the smell of leather and dirt, of hay and oats and horse. Your boots are filthy, and flakes of mud fall off on the honeyed wood of the floor. I do not mind. How could I?
You're heavy on my thighs, and I'm losing the circulation to my feet as they press into the edge of my chair, but I also do not mind this. How could I? Not with your hand pressing up against the crotch of my jeans, your thick fingers tracing out the sideways tuck of my cock. I remark that I think you like feeling it grow so fast. You remark that it started large to begin with. We laugh together, and you toss your head. You kiss me. Your mouth is warm, your lips chapped. You taste of strawberries, and there is a purr to your voice as you tell me to shut the computer.
How could I not?
Your hands are in your hair, and you've no idea I'm watching. I'm watching your fingers curl in and out of the black tendrils of it as it spills toward the book you're reading. Thick and heavy and old, sprawled open on a table covered in papers. Papers covered in writing. Writing from your hands. I love it for being yours.
Your hands are on your face, with their long fingers curled along the solid angling of your jaw. I watch the pad of your thumb slide past the cleft in your chin to catch on your lower lip. You're red with frustration, but I do not think that languishing over the book will provide your answers, my love. You see me watching. The green of your eyes gathers all of my attention, and I am distracted from your hands, from your thumb at the chip in your tooth. You smile, and it makes me smile, and I think it again. I love you.
You're upon me with nothing more than this exchange of glances, and of smiles. Here with the smell of leather and dirt, of hay and oats and horse. Your boots are filthy, and flakes of mud fall off on the honeyed wood of the floor. I do not mind. How could I?
You're heavy on my thighs, and I'm losing the circulation to my feet as they press into the edge of my chair, but I also do not mind this. How could I? Not with your hand pressing up against the crotch of my jeans, your thick fingers tracing out the sideways tuck of my cock. I remark that I think you like feeling it grow so fast. You remark that it started large to begin with. We laugh together, and you toss your head. You kiss me. Your mouth is warm, your lips chapped. You taste of strawberries, and there is a purr to your voice as you tell me to shut the computer.
How could I not?
o_O
ReplyDeleteSweetballz....covered in awesomesauce!
Oh and still..get rid of that silly captcha thing I have to go through every time I creeper comment
Hmmm.. I was going to email what I am about to say..but I decided that would be..too creeperish. Lol.
ReplyDeleteThis is about the story "Mind Your Manners".
Wow..just fucking wow.
You could feel the fear the guy felt..the pain...
My stomach twisted because of that story..
Also Dirt..was well written..but just not my thing. ^_^
Man I know I'm female, but this reminds me soo painfully of my partner and I. Just a glance and the feelings you can exchange with someone that important to you - it's scary exhilirating, and it melts my toes.
ReplyDeleteI like to think that some things transcend gender. :) I'm glad you enjoyed.
ReplyDeleteI was just thinking that same thing, that I'm a lady but this reminds me very much of my girl. The black curls and all.
ReplyDelete