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contains m-rated content
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i want you, yeah i want you bad
so bad i can't think straight
so bad all my bones shake
so bad i can't breathe
i want you so bad i can't breathe—ok go
they meet in a tangle of limbs and lips.
it ends up being awkward and less poetic
than it sounds, but they pretend that it's heaven
and are content.
breaths, hair, and fingers are knotted together and
she's not ready and
he's too early and
the floor is harder than hoped for.
his palms are damp with anticipation and catch
painfully in her hair. a whimper escapes;
she convinces him from pleasure,
but he knows better and squeezes her hand
('I'm sorry" "I know").
the pumping, rocking, pushing motion soothes her;
not in the sense of enjoyment,
but in the way she can embrace the pattern and
count along in her head
(eleven twelve thirteen fourteen).
fingernails tear the flesh of his back
(fuck fuck fuck) and he bites his lip
to keep from complaining.
the pain makes it harder to want this
but they're far too gone.
something is building building building
much different from before because his motions
now thrill her and her sighs stir something deeper
(yes yes yes yes) but it's gone in a flash
when the world explodes
and he's collapsed.
he pulls away and she smiles
because she loves him (kiss me, please kiss me).
it'll be different when they're older, he promises.
because now they're young.
now they're only children.
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fandrastic