Collection

Stray Sex Scene #49472

For Makaya. (9/13/19)

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I was writing the poem before this and I started thinking about sex.

Thinking about how I need to get a smaller dick because ten was a ridiculous idea in the first place.

Thinking about how when we were first looking you wanted to go with seven.

I should've gone with eight when I bought Draco.

I was thinking about having you wrapped around me, waiting for me to start moving and getting impatient when I don't.

I was thinking about adjusting to kiss you. Feeling your body jerk with my slightest movement, kissing you slow and sloppy for so long you get dizzy with it.  How you'd sob when I finally started to slowly move.

A leg around my hip, the other held up by my arm.

I never got to...we never got to actually have that kind of sex, did we?

The back-scratching, hair-pulling, let me fucking crawl inside of you sex.

Part of me wants— all of me wants that to happen but part of me wants it to happen now.

Simply because I know it wouldn't happen without a long talk.

When I say now, I mean that I want to fast forward to the time when we are okay, when we can do that, when I can wake up and move your hair out of my face, kiss you on the forehead, and go make breakfast.

When I say now I mean that I just want everything to be— not okay, I want everything to be perfect, again.

I want to fast forward to when we can reminisce on what's going on now, when it becomes a Before point instead of an After point.

I want to fast forward to a time when we are happy and in love, instead of messy and in love.

I want to kiss you all over your face and tell you how much I love you while I fucking drill into you, while I fucking slow dick you to another planet, while I make you feel amazing because we've already been through good and you deserve more.

I want to make love to you and have it be made a million times better because we know that it won't be the last time, because you don't have to worry about if I'm gonna fuck up tomorrow or the day after that, because we have processed and dealt with everything.

I want to make love to you and I want to keep making love to you.

(Is that what that is?)

I imagine the next time that we have sex a lot.

I think I'm going to cry, honestly.

And I'm not ashamed of it.

I won't be ashamed of it, if it happens.

It happens like this:

We're making out, skin on skin. So close we could never be apart.

Then it clicks in my head, "she's here. You did it. She came back."

And I just start crying tears of fucking joy.

(The connection spaced for half a second and I almost started to die.)

Does anybody make you feel how I do?

Sexually, I mean.

I ask because nobody makes me feel like you do.

(I went to the room to say goodnight. Ended up smoking, the call failed.)

When we are together, I am consumed.

When we are together, I feel invincible.

When we are together, I feel whole.

Being with you, being near you, makes me feel so powerful I could conquer the world.

When we're kissing, I feel like every breath makes me stronger.

When your mouth is on my neck, those moments when I do that little "fuck" under my breath, it feels like there is lightning in my veins.

When your hands are in my hair, your legs wrapped around my hips, your breath intertwining with mine, I feel...god I feel so good that sitting here searching for the words could take hours.

When we are rolling around together, sweat-slippery and hot like the sun, I swear wings could sprout from my back and just carry us somewhere far away.

When my head is between your legs, your thighs clamped securely around my head with the sound of you moaning my name over and over again as the soundtrack to my life, I feel godly.

Fuck that.

I feel like a god.

No, fuck that too.

When we are together, I become a god.