His heartbeat holding hands with my heartbeat.
I’m not supposed to feel held.
I’m supposed to feel hollow.
I didn’t want the closeness or comfort,
only the fuckin’ high.
I pull my hand from between my thighs,
pull back, pull away, to vanish, to run?—
“I need to go. I—fuck—I gotta clean up.”
My fingers are wet.
My head’s a fucking hurricane.
My breaths grow shallow as panic rises inside me.
I can’t stand here this exposed.
But he catches me, drags me back to him.
“Hey, you’re good. Don’t go, don’t go.”
He steps in,
steadies me with a hand on my hip.
“Just… be here with me. Just for a second.”
Head bowed,
he brings my two slick fingers to his mouth?—
warm, wet, trembling?—
and he closes his lips around them.
His eyes fall shut as he sucks them slow.
And I stop breathing.
Raymond used to wipe me off like a smudge.
White cloth. Weekly maintenance work.
But Andrew takes me in,
keeping my fingers,
my taste in his mouth
like they belong to him.
When they slide out unhurried?—
