Feb. 20th, 2012

elionwyr: (sailor)
I know you're talking.

What you're saying might even be important.

The politics of healthcare, laundry at home that needs folding, the senseless war in Afghanistan, what groceries we need to pick up.

I'm sorry. I don't really hear any of it.

I'm watching the way your mouth moves, fighting the urge to raise my hand and trace the lines of your lips. I'm looking at a vaguely hidden kiss, there - in the dimple as you smile, it's there - and it's mine, and I want to remind you that I've claimed it. My eyes are following the motion of your hands over the table, and I want them on me. I want them, now. I want you, now.

Your eyes narrow. Your talking pauses.

"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

I smile, shrug, stand up; I lean across the table; I kiss you on the forehead.

"Tell me again. Later. Right now? Take me home."

January 2013

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