I want to leave you bruised and sore and feeling wonderful about it.
I want to take you,
Bend you over,
And make you swear you’ve seen god in the grain of the fake wood of this desk,
I want to fill you
Be you,
Become such a part of you that we melt together for that endless fleeting moment.
And when that’s done,
I want us to sit there,
Sweaty, content, and fulfilled,
Until I see that hunger in your eyes,
And then I want you to roll over,
And take from me what I took from you.
Fuck tops and bottoms,
I want to beat the shit out of each other,
Bruise and bite and struggle for control.
If either of us aren’t panting when it’s done,
We’ll just have to do it again.
I don’t want to whisper,
Darling,
I want my fingers to scream at you with need,
I want faint trails of blood to follow your fingertips across me,
I want battle scars,
And stories you only whisper in bars,
To half-drunk listeners who will never believe you,
I want the smell of us to linger,
Guilting both of us into action,
More and more action.
I want to be more full of desire for you than words can contain.
