His eyes anchor to mine, needing to hold on.
Then he leans in,
tilts his head,
and kisses me slow?—
tongue dragging,
lips parting wide to take me deeper.
He groans, grinding his cock against me,
grinding his finger inside me.
An aching press of mouth to mouth?—
a kiss that shakes, a kiss that never ends.
One that feels like it means something.
Likehemeans it.
I know in the way my chest tightens.
In the way this feeling settles behind my eyes
and burns.
Then the room slows down.
He grazes my nose with his.
“Gesù…
“You—you always kiss like this?”
“Like what?” I ask.
His wet lips slip over mine.
“I dunno—like?—”
He kisses me again.
Gets lost in it.
Then breaks away.
“Like that feeling right before you come.
“That five second stretch
“where it’s too fuckin' good,”
he says it, like he can’t find his next breath.
Then kisses me again, slower this time,
