How many years have we been doing this, now?
Where every time it is the same
And still so strikingly new
We always speak in hypotheticals
Like we don't know exactly where we'll end up
Tangled in each other
So I'll start by saying
Maybe I'll be surprised and smile when my phone registers your name - perhaps the name only I call you and only half in jest - and you might ask if I'm back in town. I'll be glad you can't see me grinning all too wide as I write you back a coy reply.
And then maybe in the morning I'll wake you and offer smoothies and our favorite DVDs and we'll pretend that's all that's on the menu. You might be more excited to see me than I anticipated and take me into your arms with more force than I'd expected. Then perhaps I'd smile as I revel in your warmth for just a moment before we shuffle downstairs, maybe already engaged in the banter we both know we love. And then perhaps we'd settle into the couch like we always do, and I'd place my hand on the few inches of sofa between us and you'd absentmindedly intertwine your fingers with mine and pretend you don't notice my breathing change at the slightest touch of your skin on mine. Of course maybe our favorite show was really just a front that we both knew we didn't need, and it's somehow ironic that we still go through these motions. At the same time, perhaps its unyieldingly romantic, as is so much of what you do, often, it seems, without even realizing it. And maybe we'd smile at each other and linger just a moment too long, and you'd turn to look at me and feel my eyes drinking up the very sight of you. And perhaps you'd take your hand and brush the hair away from my face and match my stare, slowly pulling me to you. Then suddenly your lips are on mine and I am on fire and so acutely aware of everything while at the same time oblivious to anything but the way you make me feel.
And then you would descend on me, putting me squarely against the couch, carelessly sending anything in your way crashing to the floor. You don't care if its breakable, it needs to be on the floor while you use the surface. And hypothetically,:the passion with which you would seem to tear my clothes from my body would surpass any worldly boundaries.
I'd gasp, deep, and slide away from you for only a moment as I'd turn my body to bring myself on top of you, holding your hands above your head as my mouth makes its way down your body to your neck, your chest, your abs and your waist, where my teeth will leave barely-perceptible marks and you'll start breathing harder and harder.
Of course, you wouldn't let me hold you for long. As I am tracing my tongue, my lips, my teeth around your torso, you'd abruptly roll me over onto my back and pin me down, strong hands dwarfing mine which seem so exceedingly feminine in the moment. You might suck and bite at my skin, paying special attention to my neck and stomach. Maybe flick your tongue across my hipbones, just for a taste. Your hands might tremble in a futile attempt to be gentle because you've always looked at my naked body like a piece of art, but you'd have to release my hands to let yours have the experience they so crave.
You might then give in and let them rub my body, as your mouth follows, exploring every curve and reveling in the sounds you are pulling from me. You'd tease me with your tongue, and I'll remember when you used to tell me how you so enjoyed my taste, and were so saddened when it left your mouth. Perhaps you want to try it again.
And I am so blissfully aware of your breath, your skin, you... on me that I am like putty in your hands and am aching to be part of you. I might pull you up to me and remember how I've always loved the way your dark eyes looked at me and really saw me. But in this moment I'd look to see if you were feeling as good as I am and remind you that you love the way I move my hips... any maybe all the while I'm clawing and biting into you because I just need that much of you.
And perhaps we would have long ago abandoned silence, me for my gasps, sighs and inaudible expletives, you for low, gutteral moans and heavy breaths and dominating commands. Even as you invite my tongue into your mouth once again with yours, my name escapes your lips as I raise my hips to meet yours and match your movement. Your hands would probably already be enjoying themselves, running down my sides, over and around my thighs, up my stomach and over my breasts. And you couldn't help but be enthusiastic when, even as you push into me, your back folds in half as you taste my skin again. You would make sure I broke a sweat, if for no other reason than to have the pleasure of sucking up the single drops running down my neck and between my breasts.
And so there I'd be, my legs wrapped around you and your arms around me and again you'd sweep the stray hair from my face and I would run my tongue over your lips as I pull you deeper into me. And then perhaps you'd find me guiding your hand from my chest, to my waist, to my hips, to my navel and further down as I'd beg you to throw yourself into me. And there would be no hope for subtlety as I continue to rock my hips with yours and my lips and teeth find your collarbone once more and you inhale and sigh in that way I love where I know you're happy and are incapable of being anything else.
And if you might be being the submissive type, you'd obey my every command - though I'd never need words - but all the while you'd take pleasure in making me stumble as our hips match up and your hand finds a way to stimulate me no matter where you put it, though it will inevitably find its way everywhere else on my body that I could possibly reach. Pressing against you, sweat-drenched bodies rubbing together and moaning explitives in that sort of raw pleasure that comes with making love without worrying about where or how, only caring about the who and the now.
And you would know that I love you listening to me, while at the same time we both know you needn't because our passion is instinctual and we've never needed instructions for one another's pleasure. So you'd push me down beneath you because there's nothing like feeling you on top of me and seeing your face and feeling you move inside of me. By now I'd have so little control over my hips - they're so desperately seeking yours that my whole body is yours to do with whatever you could want. Nevertheless I know completely what you want, because what you want and what I need are the same in this moment. And maybe once you've laid me down and your hands are still finding their way all over me, mine have not left your skin since the moment they discovered you. In that moment I'm watching you so intently and feeling you so completely; we are moving perfectly together and I can watch your face and you can feel me tighten around you like my arms invariably will, time and time again...
You wouldn't let me up for a second, as you refuse to let me forget how much you enjoy being pressed against me and I against you. Bodies move and tremble, hips rock away from each other only to press back against one another even more passionately, as if our whole body kisses in the way you would kiss me. Desperate to be one person, emotion and sensation would take over. The craving for pleasure would drive movement and reason and two people find themselves the mechanism for their bodies' will, as the bodies know they fit perfectly together, and enjoy the comfort of a match.
And as we'd move perfectly in unison, blissfully ignorant of the world around us, that world would stop and we would be the only motion that mattered. As heat rips through my body I can do nothing but cry out and pull you into me, needing you to be as integral a part of my body as you are of my heart. My eyes have turned a dark emerald and your breathing has become more frantic as your teeth sink into my skin and you let out a primal scream. Your body spasms and I am one with you entirely, and even the after-shock leaves us shuddering in unison.
Then we would lie there, tangled in one other. Panting, sweating, heaving, exhausted and breathless. And we would sleep, both of us too content to move outside each other, or this space, or this moment.
*With collaboration from my dearest A. (he didn't know I'd be writing it here, but he helped with the words, the memories, the experiences...)