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twiddle
Her mouth on his body, she longed to find Home.
In his landscape was buried her doubts and desires; his scent blurred her memories; and each gasping climax brought a precious bit of peace.
Not that she confessed it. Not that he'd understand. Afterwards, he slept, uncomplicated focus, as she memorized his profile, as she wished she could follow his perfection.
Of course he wasn't perfect. If he could hear her thoughts, he would protest, point out a litany of faults. But he was full of unrealized music that his body hinted at hearing. It was there, in his lips, in his mischievous eyes. So she kept the secret, and worshipped in her way.
In his landscape was buried her doubts and desires; his scent blurred her memories; and each gasping climax brought a precious bit of peace.
Not that she confessed it. Not that he'd understand. Afterwards, he slept, uncomplicated focus, as she memorized his profile, as she wished she could follow his perfection.
Of course he wasn't perfect. If he could hear her thoughts, he would protest, point out a litany of faults. But he was full of unrealized music that his body hinted at hearing. It was there, in his lips, in his mischievous eyes. So she kept the secret, and worshipped in her way.