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061. Loved
Light, like butterflies, more air than lips on skin with love, he covers her with them, head to toe, top to bottom. He'd like to think he can, anyway, and if he can, she thinks, all power to him.
Slow, soft, she melts like butter in a warm pan, like ice cream on pie, something cool against the unstoppable warmth of another. Behind her dark closed eyelids, there are shows of light unlike any that fireworks can replicate.
Stolen, in the afternoons, in the middle of the night, quick, sweet. They are almost always caught in the thick of it and they're teased for it, like their red, sheepish faces are prizes to be won.
Hesitant, but those are few and far between, most nothing but memory now, like their first. She could barely reach him, even on her ballerina toes, but she was always able to whack him upside the head when he dared teased her about it.
Eternal, she smiles, barely able to walk out the front door without one; he panics and tears himself from wherever he is and catches her, wraps and arm around her waist and presses one, sweet, under her ear.
Heated, neither of them could be any closer but they crave it, though they are skin against slick warm skin, hip to hip; she gets her fingers lost in his mess of chocolate curls and smiles, pulls his lips with hers as she does it.
Yasu Karpusi is a woman of action, not of words; he can say it as many times as he wants, yet one of the only times she feels truly loved are when his lips are on her.
 men getting pregnant · Sun Jan 03, 2010 @ 06:46am · 1 Comments |
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