horseboykarl: (celebration)
[personal profile] horseboykarl
Twenty hours in a plane. From one side of the world to the other. From spring to fall. I haven't had to do this heaps, usually start from LA before I head to Europe, but this time it's for fun. And it wasn't so bad. Sean and I spent the whole time talking. It started out with my efforts to distract Sean from the idea that he's on a bloody plane, but it soon turned into a long rambling chat about everything under the fucking sun. Our plans, our hopes, things we'd done and seen, things we want to do in Italy, and a few filthy suggestions made in a rough Yorkshire accent that made me whimper with need.

The plane landed almost before we knew it, but the car ride into the hills was too much for me, and I slumped in the seat, using Sean's shoulder for a pillow. The movement stopping woke me up and I sit up rubbing my eyes. It's dark, and I've got no fucking idea what time it is. Dark.

But there's an immense expanse of stone and rough-hewn wood, I can see that much. And there's Sean's warm hand snugged underneath my shirt, rubbing my back. The air is chilly and I shiver, and the hand squeezes, guiding me inside.

"Put a bed under me," I mumble, burying my nose in his hair. What I really want right now is to sleep for a whole day with him wrapped around me.

Sean: You seem even more knackered than meself as we make our way to the villa of Il Vigneto. The door is unlocked, and smiling through my weariness at your mumble, I figure you’ve expended more energy than you realize, keeping me well and distracted on the plane. Nerve-wracking bloody things, will never get used to them completely, but having you by my side went a long way to making the trip comfortable rather than just bearable.

A member of the staff appears, quietly introducing himself as Antonio. He offers a welcoming smile as he hands over a set of keys, reminding me that there’s a cook available to us as well maid services, but otherwise we’ll have the entire place to ourselves for the duration of our stay. You’re practically boneless, leaning into me, all but napping on my shoulder. Antonio’s gaze flicks between us and I swear his smile goes a bit warmer, though that may be just the jet lag imagining things.

My eyes narrow but as Antonio promises to see to our baggage, I nod gratefully. He heads off and giving you a squeeze and a tug it only takes a few moments to get moving and find the bedroom. Switching on a lamp I pull you close, brush my lips over yours, not looking to start anything but just wanting the contact, content with knowing that soon we’ll we bare and tangled together in bed.

I set about slowly undressing you, pressing gentle kisses against revealed skin along the way . . . your shoulder, neck, chest, belly, mouth . . . everywhere. You sway lightly in my arms and it’s a rather tricky maneuver, getting you out of your shoes and pants, but finally it’s done. I even manage to scatter a few kisses along each thigh without you toppling over, and so it’s with a feeling of accomplishment that I push you onto the bed. You’re golden in the warm yellow light from the lamp, and getting you settled, I take a long moment just to look at you, body lax, dark hair spilling out over the pillow. So gorgeous, and I love you, so very much.

Shucking out of my own clothes, I leave them on the floor where they drop and slide in beside you. The sheets are cool and smooth but you’re warm, so very warm, and folding my arms about you I pull you close. You mumble softly and I card fingers through your hair, kissing your forehead, telling you to sleep as I reach out and switch off the lamp. Darkness rushes in and I hold you, soaking up your heat, smiling as sleep rises over me, wondering if we’ll make it to morning before one of us wakes the other.

Karl: When I wake up, I'm looking at an expanse of whitewash. I'm warm and comfortable and there's a nice weight on my chest. I roll over slightly and your arms tighten around me, and you dig your face into my chest. My view is large dark wooden beams glowing in the sunlight. I wonder what time it is and smile when I realise I'm naked.

You must have taken care of me last night. My fingers trace circles on your back, happiness filling me, warmth of loving you moving inside me. I was so fucking out of it . . . I remember arriving but that's about it. I wonder if I zoned out in the middle of anything you had going on, but I resolve that I'll make it up to you. I slide my hand down your back to cup your ass, a juicy sweet handful of flesh. I fucking love your ass, love touching it, and licking it and biting it.

My stomach gives a rumble and I try to calculate the hours since I had a decent meal, but I get lost when I can't remember whether to add a day for crossing the date line or subtract, so I give it up as a bad job. Besides, I've got your warm weight on me and I don't really need any food at the moment. Not when there's a hot blonde in my bed.

I give your ass another squeeze, the feel of the firm muscle rebounding in my hand making my dick sit up and take notice. Not that I need much encouragement, you're so fucking sexy that I'm surprised I was too tired last night.

But this morning I think I'm in the mood for something slow and languid. I wonder if I can get to the loo and back without disturbing you. I'll take care of my bladder and then give you some morning adoration.

Sean: Drifting near to wakefulness I’m aware of warmth, touch . . . a slow, delicious knead that’s about to have me squirming . . . then both seem to slip away. An exploratory slide of my hand only finds empty sheets, and were I actually conscious I’d be rather put out at having my warm, firm pillow vanish. After a few moments spent drifting in half-sleep, the sound of running water tugs at me, has me risking opening an eye.

Fuck. Too fucking bright. Shutting the eye back tight, I bury my nose in the pillows and take a long slow stretch, right to the tip of my toes. It’s quiet again; I’m muzzy headed from jet lag, toeing the edge of sleep and possibly disgruntled. Burrowing deeper into the pillows I’m just dozing off when I feel the mattress dip. The sheets tickle over skin as they’re drawn away, and there’s that brilliantly warm touch again, easing up my spine, drifting into my hair.

I make a low contented noise against the pillow, all but melting under your slow moving fingers that sifts through my hair, then drifts down to massage the back of my neck. Reaching out blindly, I get a hand on you, just wanting to touch, to make sure I’m not dreaming. Your skin is lush with warmth, heated, and I stroke you slowly, getting my eyes open and blinking in the bright morning sunlight.

“Mmm . . . mornin’, love,” I rasp, voice rough.

Karl: You're still relaxed when I get back in bed and I just look at you for a moment. The whitewashed wall is catching the autumn sunlight and magnifying it and when I pull the sheet off of you, it makes you look gilded, like a Renaissance painting. You're so beautiful you make my chest hurt, full of some overwhelming emotion.

I trace the line of light down your back, my hands gentle and slow on you, wanting to pull you out of sleep, but easily and quietly.

My fingers tangle in your hair, the strands glimmering in the light. I can't stop touching you, moving my fingers on you, tracing contours of muscle and textures of skin. Your hand on me tells me you're awake and makes me suck in my breath. Fuck, how I love you. How your slightest touch thrills me so much, gets me wanting you without your trying very hard.

"Morning, beautiful." My fingers drift lightly over your face, pausing at your lips, following the line of your mouth. "Thanks for taking care of me last night . . . hope I didn't miss anything."

I lean down and find your mouth, pushing my tongue inside, stroking you slowly and opening you, tasting every corner of you. I want to taste more, want every bloody thing you've got. I throw my leg over you, heavy weight keeping you pinned down, and when the kiss ends, I ease you back onto your belly.

"Let me," I whisper, and start working my mouth down your back, covering you with slow warm kisses.

Sean: The sound of your voice has me smiling as I’m slowly, easily pulled awake. It’s still bright, but my eyes have adjusted and are on you, absorbed in taking in the sight of this face I love. It’s another moment before it registers that this isn’t our bed, our house, and it rushes in on me as your words work their way through my morning daze. Right, Italy, and I’m grinning as you lean down, ready for the kiss that takes me from warm and content to hot and hungry in an instant.

Fuck, what you do to me.

You’re holding me down as I open my mouth under yours, wanting each deep stroke, wanting and loving being held down, trusting it because it’s you doing the holding. The kiss smolders lazily, and I taste the promise of heat and pleasure of a kind only you can complete in me. Finally you draw back, lips wet and red and I mumble, staring up into your bright eyes, “Didn’t miss a thing, love. Planning on making up for lost time, then?”

You grin, withdrawing enough to ease me onto my belly, and it’s your voice, the unwavering touch of your hands and mouth that’s got the blood rushing through me, cock growing hard against the mattress, heart pounding. I stretch, instinctively opening my legs wider, sighing your name against the smooth sheets, turning my head and trying to watch you over my shoulder. Your hands slide over me arse and the sensation pulls a soft, surprised noise from me. Feels so good, and even after all the times you’ve loved me, sometimes I’m still surprised at how good just one touch from you feels.

My hips rock gently as you work your magic, eyes sliding shut, lips parted as my breathing picks up. “So good, love,” I say slowly, moving slowly under your hands, sensing that it’s going to be hot, slow and deep this morning. “Want you, Karl . . . want you in me.”

Karl: You're so fucking responsive to my every touch, every kiss, every swipe of my tongue and I groan against your skin, you're unraveling me and all you're doing is letting me pleasure you. I nip the place on your side where your hip protrudes, earning a hiss and a squirm, and I smile against your skin. I'm determined to take this slow, despite your wanton begging for it.

I tongue the top of your cleft, sampling the flavors accumulated there, the flavors that are so uniquely you and just the taste of you there sends desire rocketing into my groin and I press down on the sheets, soothing my erection while I push your legs farther apart.

Lapping my way down to your hole, I open your buttocks, staring at the puckered skin that flexes with your ragged groan even as I watch.

"Wanna open you first, tahu. Taste you deep."

Broad swipes at first, getting you nice and wet, before I point my tongue and start working the muscle into you. Going deeper each time, feeling you open up around me as I slide in. I suck on your there, teeth gently worrying sensitive skin, my hands going around your hips to hold you down as I nibble the treat you keep hidden.

You're slick with my spit, but I want inside you slow and easy. I let you rest, panting below me as I find the lube, slicking myself, watching the way your ass rises, looking for my cock to impale you.
Sean: I’m trembling, dazed with the pleasure you’ve given me, my legs sprawled wide, my hole slick, wet and aching for you. “Karl,” I pant, and hearing the shaky tone of my own voice has my fingers working even tighter into the sheets. I’m vulnerable and totally open for you, ready to be taken, not willing to hold back anything, and christ, this stunning feeling is something I ever seem to be discovering, and rediscovering, with you.

Opening my eyes I look about to find you slicking your beautiful cock, dark and hard, with your fingers. I moan, lift my hips, offering my arse shamelessly. I’m yours to do what you want with, yours to ride into the mattress. The slow preparation you’ve given me has left each nerve of my body strumming with pleasure and fucking hell, it’s got me begging for it. I need you, to feel you sliding inside, your hard hot dick stretching, filling me. I need your arms about me, holding me tight, to feel your weight on me, pinning me down as we fuse together, to feel your power and strength as you claim me.

Needing you is all that I know right now, and I’ll beg more if it’ll get me you sooner. “Karl, please, ride me, take me, need you mura, your fire in me, marking me . . .” Some distant still rational part of my brain registers surprise at being able to form words, but you slide a hand over my skin and the thought is obliterated.

I cant my hips back, blatantly lifting myself to you. Sweat is beginning to prick my skin as you move closer, as I try and get my legs open even wider for you to slide between them. I’ve never felt so free of inhibitions as I do when you touch me, and this means so much . . . love, lust, need . . . trust. Such an incredible gift this, and you give it to me over and over again.

“Love, inside me, please,” I pant, nearly whimpering even though I’ve not so much as felt a nudge from your cock.

Karl: Not like I can deny you anything, not when your voice has gone that husky and rough, not when you're moving your ass like I'm already inside you. And especially not when it's what I want so desperately anyway. I lay a hand on your flank, stroking you lightly, hoping to settle you cause I'm gonna take my time with this, love you proper.

Lining my cockhead up with your hole, I bump against you, smiling when you still, and your hole seems to open for me. I grab your hips, pulling you up as I push in slowly. Once I'm in, I press you down, resting my weight on you and I stay there, feeling your luscious warmth around me, ignoring your efforts to get me to move. I can feel your heart beat around my cock and the intimacy of this sometimes leave me gasping, that you trust with your body enough to let me fuck you.

"Gonna fuck you slow," I growl, groaning when you stop moving instantly, responding to me perfectly. I can't wait any longer and I pull back, bringing you with me to your hands and knees. I get my hands on your ass cheeks, holding you as I move inside you.

I pump in and out of you in long slow strokes, enjoying the slow relentless build up of my orgasm, stopping when it gets too close, wanting to draw this out as long as possible. I ignore your whimpers when I stop, but I make sure to rake your prostate every time I move.

"Touch yourself, tahu." And then I know what I want you to do. "Talk to me. Talk dirty to me, tell me how it feels."

Sean: Taking me apart, you are, piece by piece. I whimper with it, this perfect pleasure you’re making inside me. Pinned, filled with you, skin slick with my sweat, your sweat, your words sink inside, making me buck. Your hands lock down on my arse, keeping me still like you want me and I can’t even moan at how good that feels . . . can only bow my head and pant for a moment before I’m ready to answer you.

“Karl,” I start, voice so rough and shaky I have to pause again, closing my eyes as your cock throbs in me. After a moment, I push back against you. Your fingers curl in hard again and bloodyfuckinghell, it’s in me to hope there’ll be bruises later, where you’re gripping me. I lift up, still pushing back, moaning with it and suddenly you understand. After a delicious moment of slick skin sliding together, of your dick shifting inside, we rearrange. I’m sheathed, sitting on your lap as your arms go about me. I run my hands along them, loving this, being held and filled with you.

My head rests against your shoulder, sweat-wet hair clinging to your skin as I press my face into your neck, breath rushing out hot against you. “Bloody amazing, you are,” I manage, sending my hands down over my body, tweaking my nipples. Sparks of bliss skate down my spine and I rock on you, back bowing, moaning as your arms keep me caged close.

“Karl, fuck!” We begin moving as one, you thrusting in deep and me sinking down, working slow and steady and I can’t stop the desperate noises as I do what you’ve asked, as I take meself in hand. My cock jumps as I stroke, and the words tumble out of me like the moans and whimpers before . . . “Feel so bloody full with you . . . no one’s ever made me feel so fucking full. Love your fucking, feeling your balls slap against me arse, taking your cock in me, stretching for you, so fucking tight for you . . . ”

You give me a hard, aching thrust and I cry out your name before falling back into my rough babble, “Love, I can’t, please--don’t stop fucking me, can feel you so goddamned deep, mura, cock taking me, making me yours—ah, god!”

I buck in your arms as your hold tightens, thrusts ramming up into me now. I absorb your hunger, wanting more. “Love you so much, Karl. Come in me, mura, fucking drown me with it, take it all . . . yours . . . ”

Can’t speak anymore, can’t do anything except give myself to you and pull at my dick, crying out against your neck.

Karl: You've given me all I've asked of you and more, your hot body and hot words stripping my control away but I cling to the slow rhythm, wanting it to overwhelm us. When you lose it though, I lose it, jamming you down tight on me while it takes me and I pulse long and hard into you, crying out your name in one long wail of ecstasy. Heat spreads between us and I know you've followed me. I clench you tightly against me, never letting go until it passes over both of us and we're panting, propped against each other and you're staring deep into my eyes and I'm letting you see everything you do to me, everything you mean to me.

We ease apart finally and I get a warm cloth from the bathroom, running it over your belly and mine, cleaning us off. We settle back into the bed together, your head on my chest and I sigh with the happiness of being with you like this.

"I've got no fucking idea what day or time it is, but I don't bloody well care cause you're here. That's all that matters, tahu." I whisper it into your hair.

But I'm hungry, I can't deny it, and I finally stretch, suggesting that we find some kip before we go out to face the brightness of the Italian fall.

Sean: Lifting up, I press a kiss to your chest, enjoying the muted throb in my arse. “Feel the same way, love,” I say softly, and your smile tells me you understand that I’m not talking about wanting breakfast. I claim a kiss, warm and slow, we linger this way a few moments, kissing, hands moving over one another gently. The house is quiet and as we pull apart, sliding gout of bed, I grin to myself at the memory of all the noise I made, not too long ago.

We grab a quick shower, and for once it’s your belly that’s howling. Toweling each other off and slipping on some comfortable clothes we seek out the kitchen, dipping our heads into every other room in curiosity. Sunlight streams through the windows, warm against whitewashed stone walls, terracotta floors and exposed wooden beams. The villa is uncluttered, possessing a mix of new, comfortable looking furniture alongside restored Tuscan pieces.

Since we’ve not asked for the cook’s services, we’re own our own for breakfast, but the frig proves well stocked. You get the coffee going as I take out eggs, cheese, some ham and few small mushrooms for omelets. They’re up soon, and dishing them out onto the plates you hand me we settle at the kitchen table. For all that we eat like starving men, breakfast goes by quickly, and taking your hand we head outside.

Stepping out into the bright sunlight, I gaze about, struck by the beauty of the rolling countryside falling away, blanketed with row upon row of grapevines. I spot olive trees in the distance, as well as stately cedars dotting the landscape and lining the winding roadway, all green and brilliantly picturesque under the clear blue sky.

Pulling you close, I slip an arm about your waist, leaning into your side as we both take it all in. “So lovely,” I finally say, turning to you with a smile. “What do you feel like, love? Want to do a bit of exploring? Could head up to the winery or just wander about . . .”

Karl: My eyes are following the twisting road up into the trees, under this gorgeous sky. I know what I want . . . You clinging tightly to me while we explore. You're already pressed hard against my side, and I don't want to let you go.

I look at you, wondering. "Can we rent a bike somewhere? I'd like to ride into the hills."

We didn't bring leathers or helmets, but surely the staff here can find something for us. My arm around you tightens, pulling you in for a kiss there under the endless sky. "And lunch. Can we take a lunch and just go wandering?"

Sean: I smooth my hand along your spine, enjoying the warm sunlight on my face and the even warmer look in your eyes. “That sounds brilliant, love. I’m sure something can be sorted out.”

Well acquainted with what it’s like, riding with you, I flash on all the fucking beautiful things we’ve got up to on your bike at home. Suddenly I’m rather eager to be off, and the thought of tooling along these sun-soaked lanes, exploring this beautiful rolling countryside snugged up behind you, sounds bloody perfect. The closest village is Montalcino, only minutes away, and after a few inquires our request for a motorbike is being seen to.

While we wait we sort out lunch, perusing the gourmet menu that’s available to order from during the day. There’s even gourmet cooking classes available, and I grin, thinking of the two us feeling one another up during a class. Evening meals are available as well, and can even be catered in the villa itself, though those must be asked for in advance. I tuck this bit away for later reference, remembering of another evening meal, of candles flames shivering on ocean breezes and your hazel eyes gleaming.

Placing our orders, the food is up fairly soon. A dark-haired, dark-eyed bloke dressed out as a staff member brings it out, lets us know that the bike will be along soon. His wide smile seems familiar, and it clicks that he was there last night-or this morning, whichever-when we arrived. Taking the bag with our lunch, it’s packed up nice and secure in a handy canvas bag with a handle, I give the guy a tip, waiting until he’s moving off before turning back to you.

Stepping close, a grin spreads over my face as I say softly, “Reckon they’ll bring along a pair of leather gloves with the bike, if we ask nicely?”

Karl: A jolt of lust flares through me at your words. You're always as your most wanton when I'm running leather gloves over your bare skin. Your leather kink gets me fucking hot.

"Would be wonderful, tahu," I growl into your ear. I know you bloody well do it on purpose, get me so wound up and turned on that I can't think straight. I make immediate plans to find someplace secluded up in the hills and give you what you're so obviously asking for. I leer at you, making my thoughts as plain as possible, trying to work you into a state.

The villa provides us a driver to take us to the bike livery and I pull you against me while we drive. Fuck, if they don't have gloves, I'll just buy a pair. Should do that anyway, considering that what I have in mind will likely ruin them.

We get settled on a bike that isn't quite as powerful as my soft tail, but it'll do. Soon, with helmets on and lunch in the saddlebags, we turn onto the road winding up the mountain.

Sean: My arms wrap about you, the bike vibrates under us, and I nudge a little closer against your back, content to just hold on and watch as the tranquil landscape slides past. You’re a lucky bastard, Bean, and I’m remembering your fucking sexy smirk in response my teasing about the gloves. Did it on purpose, naturally, just to get you going, just to see the flash in your eyes. That you gave it, and continually give it to me every day is still something that leaves me amazed.

Tuscany is turning out to be as lovely as Bora Bora, in that it can cast a spell on the senses, and I find myself looking eagerly along the endless vineyards and through scattered copses of trees as we round another bend, curious to know what’s waiting on the other side. Every now and then we stop in a roadside village to take in a sight, but mostly we just ride. For a time I lose myself in the looking, in just enjoying this freedom with you under the flawless blue sky, and after a while I notice that we seem to have left behind most of the villages and villas dotting the area.

The sound from the bike’s motor changes, the growl deepening as you guide us up a hillside crowned with stately cedars. They stand like an island of green at the top of the hill, a small distance from the roadway which seems to have shrunken to a paved track rather than a proper lane. You must’ve taken a turn off the main motorway that I didn’t notice. I hope to fuck you’ve been paying attention to where we are, as I’ve just been hanging on and staring about. We’ve been riding for a fair bit, and I’m not too proud to admit me arse is getting numb (been squirming a bit for the past few minutes-and not surprising, after the slow, deep loving you gave me this morning) and me belly is complaining.

My hand resting flat against your belly gives a tap, and I press close to your ear, saying loudly over the rumble from the engine, “Lunch?”

Karl: I'm absolutely in agreement with that suggestion, and I made sure to pack a blanket in the saddlebags. The day has warmed up considerably from this morning, and though the wind keeps me cool, it'd be nice to stop for a bit and unwind. I've been heading us deeper into the hills, dodging away from the farms. I'm quite sure that we're not on public land though, so I hope we don't annoy some farmer. We probably shouldn't do anything to scare the livestock. I grin. Plenty other things we can get up to.

After parking the bike and securing it, I pull my helmet off, raking a hand through my hair, and then reaching over to do the same for you, making a mess of it. I laugh at your growl and get the blanket, while you get the food. We find a level clear place and spread the blanket in the sunshine. I pull you back against my chest and we eat like that, unable to stop touching.

There's a dish of olives, and a bottle of wine and some fragrant cheeses, and bread, and other things. We eat slowly, laughing and talking all the while, fingers brushing as we reach for things.

Sean: Warm and comfortable resting against you, I load a bit of cheese on a slice of buttery bread, content to nibble and then sip my wine and try not to drop it all down the front of my jumper. It’s quiet, save for the breeze whispering through the gently swaying treetops, bringing to us the fragrant scent of the cedars. Not another person in sight, and not even the noise of traffic reaches this tranquil oasis.

Beyond our spot, the land falls away, rolling downhill and from our vantage point in the sun just beyond the trees, I can track the narrow lane that leads back to the villa. The deep blue sky is free of clouds and everything feels pleasant and soothing, peaceful. Reckon I’d be content to linger here the rest of the afternoon . . . just napping, resting, or, other less restful things.

Grinning to myself, I finish the last bit of cheese and bread, licking butter from my fingertips absently, and it doesn’t really matter to me what we do, really, just as long as I’m right here, with you. I shift against your chest, your legs closing a bit snugger about me before we relax back together. My head on your shoulder, my hands glide slowly up your thighs, palms feeling the warmth of the sun-soaked denim, the warmth from you. Fingers drawing circles on your kneecaps, I start the process again, just wanting to touch as you finish your meal.

“So beautiful here . . . so glad we get to see it together, love,” I say softy, almost sleepily as my fingertips trace over your knees again.

Karl: Your fingers have me nearly purring, and my smile has gone lazy. I think the jetlag and the shortened hours of sleep and the good wine have caught up with me. I pull you down against me, nuzzling against your neck, the familiar taste and scent of you. You're the best thing in the world.

"Mmm. Yeah. It's warm in the sun."

Your fingers thread through my hair and I rub against you like a cat. My eyes are going heavy. "Feels so good."

The breeze brings the scent of dust and olives, and the shade moves with it, hypnotisingly. "Love you."

Then I'm not good for much for a while.

Sean: “Love you,” I reply, despite knowing you’re near sleep, if not there already. I lie still and listen to your even breathing, watching the sun play through the cedars, golden bright. Your chest rises and falls against me steadily, and my hands drift over you like the sunlight, slow and warm. My eyes feel heavy, and at some point they slide shut.

When next they open, I blink against the still bright afternoon, rubbing a hand over my face, abruptly lifting up to look about. Nothing’s changed, except the sun is a bit lower in the sky, but I look all around anyway, feeling protective. You’re still sleeping, hair spilled dark and wild over the blanket. Smiling, I put my hand on you, just feeling the solid warmth of your chest under my palm, reaching up to brush through your hair gently.

I’ve a vague notion that I was dreaming, just now, but can’t remember what about . . . as I watch you, a scrape of poetry comes to me, whether from the unremembered dream or just something suddenly sparking off in my subconscious, I can’t say.

I concentrate a moment, trying to remember just how it goes, finally coming up with the last two lines . . . “I have spread my dreams under your feet;” this spoken out slowly as I touch you. You stir a bit, maybe not quite as far under sleep as I’d thought.

I press a kiss to your temple. “Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.” Drawing back, I shake my head at myself quoting poetry to my sleeping lover. A smile curves my lips as you mumble softly, then fall still. “Tread as hard or softly as you want, love,” I whisper, stealing another kiss, my mouth lingering warmly against yours for a long moment. Your arm tightens about me and I lean into your side, waiting to see if you’ll wake or sink back into dreams. Doesn’t matter, really. Either way, I’ll be here.


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February 2011

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