Mεgαη

Joined when I was 17, you do the math ;)



"He could still feel her hand in his, her fingertips treading the veins in his wrist, like a feather. The mint on her breath; the unending desire to close the distance. Her implication, an invitation. She'd threaded her fingers over his thigh, searching, seeking, before he could remember to stop her. Her guilty sigh. His facetious reprimand. He'd interwoven his fingers with hers, a choice compromise, and even in the deep of the night, he felt them between his now, as if she'd never let him go."