February 26, 2012
Never Had To Ask

submitted by upsidebarcodes

Five minutes.

At five minutes to midnight I realized that I wanted you and needed you, and I realized that the way the strands of hair fall across your face draws my lips to your forehead in a kiss that says “I’ll always stay here.” I realized that you were mine and I was yours and that I’d given you absolutely everything. I’d give you everything a million times over again, and what’s a first time as a gift anyways?

I looked at your soft eyelashes covering those stupidly blue eyes, watched the way your lungs took in air and then pushed it out with a flourish, and I ran my fingers down your chest. I relished in the feel of your muscles and the hairs of your stomach. I kneaded my fingers against your skin and knew that the shoulders were strong and the collarbones were beautiful and that I wanted your body wrapped up in mine.

My breath stirred against you and I held it for fear of waking you; you were so perfect then, so perfect and vulnerable. I glanced to the still doorway, and I hissed at the trees scraping our window, and I protected you from the cold seeping in. I draped my arms over you and laid my head in the hollow of your neck, let your blood beat against my cheek as I lay there. I weaved my fingers into yours and the smoothness of my skin felt sweet against yours.

I knew that you were mine and I was yours, and I knew I’d do it all over again for that groan you gave at the end, and the response to my little gasps, and the way that your face clouded over so deliciously.

"Are you okay?" "Is this okay?"
And I knew you had to be mine. I’d make you mine, in writing: a contract.

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