sedating and deadly.
The taste of espresso on his tongue.
Cinnamon in his breath.
And we’re gone.
The stack of albums slips from his arm,
tumbling to our feet.
We’re falling into this kiss
like we’re falling through the floor.
As if we already hit the ground,
but just keep going.
His hand finds mine,
the one gripping the shelf.
His is warm and trembling.
Like this moment’s been trapped inside him too long,
and now it’s flooding out.
He guides it to the nape of his neck
and presses me into his skin.
He wants my fingers on him.
He needs them on him.
More. More.More.
He licks into me slow,
catching my bottom lip,
then grinds in his tongue,
sinking back into my mouth,
dismantling me, piece by piece.
As if he’s been here before
and spent a lifetime trying to find his way back.
His mouth is hot, wet, and I deepen the kiss.
Andrew moans into me.
I melt into him.
