You can reach that point. It can take months or days. Years or weeks. Your dreams are haunted by unreal touches and every moment spent in a terrifying fever. Ever time, you tell yourself that you'll get through it, but you never, never do.
You make the call. He shows up at your doorstep, smiling and with an easy grace. They always said that he would never make a surgeon with those big hands, but they do well enough on your body. He likes to do it right, but lets you suck him off before leaving; this sinful need to slide your tongue over him and taste him just so. You need him here. Here: with his fingernails digging into your scalp and the hair of his legs rubbing against your hand.
Supper is a painful necessity. You can't admit that you need him, and he can't admit that you use him. So you laugh and talk and drink, all the while imagining what you will do to him the moment you leave.
You take dessert home and eat it off his fingers, out of his mouth, like a child. Your heart throbs every time he touches you. Your eyes close and then open again, caught between sensation and sight. His eyes are dark.
Your voice rises, caught, strangled. How can you stop? How can you go on?
How do you ever live without this?
And when he kisses away your sobs you know he wants you here. He cradles your body like an angel, drawing you open and blessing you. You know he wants you to come home with him, not just come to his house, but come home . And you lost that a long time ago. His fingers push inside.
You choke and rock, your body hopelessly useless. He will rise you up, lift you up, with his strength enough for two men. You imagine you can feel his spirit wrapping around you, making you its own.
Your frantic movements and his calm judgement sends you into a kind of heaven, the kind of heaven only he can find. You barely notice him coming inside you, clenching and whispering your name soft enough to make your heart break.
Something in you is never free, except when he is here. Maybe this time you'll figure it out.
As always, he says to you: "Where do we go from here?"