the way their waist feels in my hands, how i can feel the ridges of their tattoos with my tongue. my hand running around their ass and grasping desperately, sliding up to the small of their back pulling them so close as to keep even the air from separating our bodies. the hollow resistance when i pin their hips with the heels of my hands. how perfectly their entire neck fits into my hand and the way their eyes droop and glaze over when i possess it. their skin in my mouth and the pop of feeling my teeth just break skin as i crush their thighs in my jaw like i need to prove to both of us that we’re here. the scrape of my incisors across their thigh and the resistance that tells me it will swell up and color into a garden of bruises laying my claim, and with every second they will ache and pulse they will whisper ‘i love you, i love you’. their lips, warm and needy, and pushing my tongue into the roof of their mouth and their teeth because i need to be inside their very skin. licking up their sternum and grabbing fistfuls of their hair and sucking them into me with my arms wrapped around their hips. the way they look at me like i’m the only one who has ever and could ever touch them the way i do, like they need me to be able to breathe
i miss traces of them under my nails and smelling them on my fingers even the next morning, seeing proof on their body and mind that we love to the point of pain, so much that we cannot help but to claim each other. keeping my passenger seat clear and my bed empty, for they aren’t whole without them in them.
