There’s so much I want to say. But the only thing I can do is move my lips in time with yours and just hope I can get the message across before you think the wrong thing.
This feeling I’m feeling. There’s nothing I want more than to just give it a name as we fall onto the soft linen. I vaguely wonder why there are no blankets. Were you prepared for this? Were you expecting this? Oh god, I’m going to be sick. I can’t do this. I’m scared. I thought this feeling would have a name by now.
But here I lay under you as hands and fingers roam. Dear god, they roam. Your experienced fingers leave my skin burning and wanting more. Why do you do this? Why do you leave me waiting? Give this feeling a name.
It’s kind of a bubbling in my stomach. Almost like I’m sick. But I know I’m not sick. No, it’s something bigger. And my head is light. Not as light as it is now. Would you stop that? I can’t think, can’t breathe when you move like that. I can only react with similar movements you must think are mere mockings. I want to be able to respond in the right way, but I don’t know how.
You try to calm me. Try to soothe me and murmur your soft words into my ear. And I almost believe your lips and I almost give in. But I can’t. I won’t. Not yet. I need to know. I need a name for this. You tell me it’s okay and that’ll I’ll know sooner or later. That it doesn’t matter. But I need to know. I can’t do this like this. I want to know that you at least know, that you have a name.
You do and you tell me. You tell me in ways I can’t even respond to. You tell me with your fingertips and your lips and hips and your skin and your words and even your toes tell me as they curl around the sheets. I can just taste how you feel and I recognize the taste and I think I know now.
I think I know I love you. This rolling in my stomach matching the rolling of your hips. Or are they my hips? Or have we melded and become one? Is this love? The church tells me this act should only happen with love. That must mean this is love. Something tells me from the deep, deep recesses of my brain that this is a sin. But I know it can’t be a sin. Not when I feel this way. And I’m not just talking about the pleasure. Though, that’s enough to cancel any sin. No, no. This feeling is definitely love and so I tell you. I tell you with my lips and my words and fingers and my hips and toes and anyway I possibly can because I don’t think I’d be able to tell you any other time or way. It has to be now or else I won’t believe myself and you won’t believe me. You have to believe me in this raw form of myself. And I know you will.
Because you love me too. And even if I didn’t love you, I think I’d be happy just to have you be happy. And dear lord, if this is you in your happiest form I think I’ll continue to keep you happy. I think that’s part of the love to. This want to keep you happy. Because I’ve never wanted to keep you as happy as I do now. And I’m okay with this love. Because I’ve never loved someone like I love you. And I plan to keep it that way. So I’ll stay by your side and be happy and keep you happy and be loved and love you.
(Source: jadeharleyquinn)
