He always starts at the neck
Teeth like tiny sparks.
I lean into it, then arch away.
A gentle push and pull.
He growls into my flesh and
The vibrations ride my veins
Like a bullet train.
His hands are nomads
Traversing terrain, that he insists
Is worthy of their continued visits.
The scars they trail across are
Gorges carved by a goddess
Not unthinkable ruins of a time
Before him. Before this.
He slips below the waist and
I vanish. He's warm and soft
And demanding. He's a jolt of
Adrenaline straight to my core.
He plays a beautiful song that
I can't help but moan the words to.
Then he sings. A song without
Words. Just feelings. Sensations.
It curls inside me and I'm one with
The choir of heavenly cherubs.
My hands find his hair and I demand
An encore.
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