Hold Me
"Hold me..."
When she tells me that, I don't know what to say. Though I know exactly what to do. Bring her into my arms, and never let her go. She's soft. And warm.
Too warm. She feels almost hot from the stress and anxiety. I know our relationship has given both of us a little too much of these things. Even so, even after the curses and the looks and the hate letters from the world...
I would never let her go. I can't. Never could I trade this feeling for complete loneliness. The way my spirit soars when she calls my name. Or the way my heart races when our lips meet.
I know two things. She's perfect, and I love her. Everything else just doesn't seem to matter. Funny, how all my cares and worries are spent on one person. But then again, who else do I care about? No one.
"What do you think?" She asked me in the dark. The room was silent, save the ticking of the clock. Our nights were always this way. Too exhausted or worried to make too much noise, we lay in the naked company of each other. After all, if we're discovered, the end will be sooner than either of us anticipated.
I chewed on my answer inside my mouth before spitting it out. "I think...no matter what anyone else says, I can't live without you." My answer must have been right because she snuggled up closer to me.
I felt her humid breath on my neck. The pattern was slow and steady. Yet I knew she wasn't asleep. Not yet.
"I love you..." Her lips danced over the cartilage of my ear as she spoke. Softly, but also unashamedly she confesses her love for me. Over, and over. Still every time, I crave to hear her tell me again. Never, will I be full of the taste of her love. Her spirit, heart and body. Each is exquisite, and unique all the same.
"I love you too..." Are the only words I am able to release before she captures my mouth into a kiss. I could taste the tears coating her lips. Still, they taste as wonderful as ever. My lips massaged hers for a while; just the way I know she likes it. I can tell by the way her body invites itself on top of mine that she appreciates my affection.
I allow my hands to graze along the curves of her body. Yes, she's perfect. Her ribs slightly protrude from her chest. Delicate skin glazed with nervous sweat presses itself against mine. Lower my hands reach. To the skin of her little belly.
I am familiar with every niche of her body. All the scars, birthmarks, and the places that cause her to coyishly giggle when I touch them. In a playful manner, she pretends to be frustrated when I defeat her in one of our 'tickle torture' contests. I'm not ticklish. At all. And although she knows this quite well, she insists on trying to best me. Losing on purpose, she'd swear to beat me next time.
It's just her excuse to touch me more. And I don't mind at all. Her childish antics only encourage me to love her.
I cup my hands over the narrow of her back, pressing her closer to me. Urges to make love to her resurface in my body. But I can't. Both of us know we can't. Not here, and not now. Ever since the first time, all I've wanted is to be closer to her in every way possible.
Ironic, how every other couple, who can't possibly be half as in love as we are, take advantage of what their bodies can do. Time, and time again. But it-no, she- is something special. We savor the moments. Our times together, so we will discover the heights of our passion as sparingly as possible.
When the kisses eventually cease, she positions her head over my shoulder. With arms and legs draped over me, she heavily breathes. I wrap my arms around her. Tight enough to show I need her here. But not tight enough to cause any discomfort. We try to hold a conversation, but most of it comes out in sighs or mumbles. That doesn't matter.
We never needed words to express how we feel. I can read every look, movement, and word. Now, she is telling me just how much she needs my love. Without words.
The silence beseeches our love. And I know soon, she will drift into her dreams. But not until she makes one last request for the night.
"Hold me..."
"Hold me..."
When she tells me that, I don't know what to say. Though I know exactly what to do. Bring her into my arms, and never let her go. She's soft. And warm.
Too warm. She feels almost hot from the stress and anxiety. I know our relationship has given both of us a little too much of these things. Even so, even after the curses and the looks and the hate letters from the world...
I would never let her go. I can't. Never could I trade this feeling for complete loneliness. The way my spirit soars when she calls my name. Or the way my heart races when our lips meet.
I know two things. She's perfect, and I love her. Everything else just doesn't seem to matter. Funny, how all my cares and worries are spent on one person. But then again, who else do I care about? No one.
"What do you think?" She asked me in the dark. The room was silent, save the ticking of the clock. Our nights were always this way. Too exhausted or worried to make too much noise, we lay in the naked company of each other. After all, if we're discovered, the end will be sooner than either of us anticipated.
I chewed on my answer inside my mouth before spitting it out. "I think...no matter what anyone else says, I can't live without you." My answer must have been right because she snuggled up closer to me.
I felt her humid breath on my neck. The pattern was slow and steady. Yet I knew she wasn't asleep. Not yet.
"I love you..." Her lips danced over the cartilage of my ear as she spoke. Softly, but also unashamedly she confesses her love for me. Over, and over. Still every time, I crave to hear her tell me again. Never, will I be full of the taste of her love. Her spirit, heart and body. Each is exquisite, and unique all the same.
"I love you too..." Are the only words I am able to release before she captures my mouth into a kiss. I could taste the tears coating her lips. Still, they taste as wonderful as ever. My lips massaged hers for a while; just the way I know she likes it. I can tell by the way her body invites itself on top of mine that she appreciates my affection.
I allow my hands to graze along the curves of her body. Yes, she's perfect. Her ribs slightly protrude from her chest. Delicate skin glazed with nervous sweat presses itself against mine. Lower my hands reach. To the skin of her little belly.
I am familiar with every niche of her body. All the scars, birthmarks, and the places that cause her to coyishly giggle when I touch them. In a playful manner, she pretends to be frustrated when I defeat her in one of our 'tickle torture' contests. I'm not ticklish. At all. And although she knows this quite well, she insists on trying to best me. Losing on purpose, she'd swear to beat me next time.
It's just her excuse to touch me more. And I don't mind at all. Her childish antics only encourage me to love her.
I cup my hands over the narrow of her back, pressing her closer to me. Urges to make love to her resurface in my body. But I can't. Both of us know we can't. Not here, and not now. Ever since the first time, all I've wanted is to be closer to her in every way possible.
Ironic, how every other couple, who can't possibly be half as in love as we are, take advantage of what their bodies can do. Time, and time again. But it-no, she- is something special. We savor the moments. Our times together, so we will discover the heights of our passion as sparingly as possible.
When the kisses eventually cease, she positions her head over my shoulder. With arms and legs draped over me, she heavily breathes. I wrap my arms around her. Tight enough to show I need her here. But not tight enough to cause any discomfort. We try to hold a conversation, but most of it comes out in sighs or mumbles. That doesn't matter.
We never needed words to express how we feel. I can read every look, movement, and word. Now, she is telling me just how much she needs my love. Without words.
The silence beseeches our love. And I know soon, she will drift into her dreams. But not until she makes one last request for the night.
"Hold me..."