His essence burns even as it heals, sliding down my throat like so many scalpels. Instrument of beneficent torture, splitting me with effortless sensuality. He is inside me, pricking at my blood, smearing bright splashes of blue and yellow and green alongside my normal, broody red. It's a pleasant contrast to the musky smell of him, only slightly diluted by the water still dancing over his skin. My nose is buried in the juncture of his thighs, and if I could, I would never move.

Anchored, tethered by my own hands' work

There's something missing from this taste, something I can't quite pinpoint. The bouquet of his climax is ever strong and sure, but this one, it was hollow--tinged with a grayish regret. I wanted, and he gave, and he enjoyed the giving as much as I reveled in the taking. The afterglow is pale, though, and streaked with that-which-I-cannot-name. Not that I'd change anything; I needed this, to force him to let me submit and be taken. Take my dominance, make it your own.

Stand above me, under my feet holding my arms around your neck

He's moving, although I'd rather he didn't; I'm still wallowing in the afterglow of getting what I wanted, of giving in and letting myself worship at the only altar I recognize. His movement is like a tourist walking into a cathedral during mass--technically acceptable but more than a bit disturbing. My tongue forgets its Latin and trips over the more brutal English it only learned so I could talk to commoners. When his cock leaves the space around my mouth I want to weep, to scowl and reach for him and bring it back. Mine, mine, only yours by my generosity. Steam diffuses the light that shines from him, rendering him hazy but still illuminated.

Do not part with me except to cleave unto me once again

When that too-familiar face appears in front of me I can't help but blink; perhaps his moving wasn't such a bad thing after all. He's twined himself around me, holding me steady and grounding me. Until he did that I wasn't aware of how close I was to just drifting away, to being washed down the drain and pushed down and out into some stagnant pool of having-what-I-have. My skin welcomes him, reaching out to draw him nearer. He's hotter than the water, smoother and more supple. For him I would give up the heat of our shower, the comfort of this steam.

Be the light that warms me, that drives away the shadows that bore me into this world

Of course, his proximity reminds me that I'm still hard, still achingly wanting. My cock stands painfully erect, screaming for the release it's childishly demanding. I've spoiled my body, always giving it what it wants, always swearing that I was thinking of it first. How can I, though, when this more-than-half of me is holding me up, elevating me to my own level? I wonder if he can sense himself inside of me, if he can see how much of me he possesses simply by breathing. Words spoken aloud may have power, but this mutually agreed-upon silence is more powerful still, binding us together in its spell. I couldn't speak now if I wanted to--the words simply wouldn't dare roll across my tongue. They're afraid to tarnish the bright shine of the something he's draped over my shoulders, of disturbing our delicate but unending dance.

He is changing me without changing a thing

He's sorting me out, pairing up the mismatched parts of my soul two by two we walk this world and sweeping up the tattered bits of me I've thrown into ill-used corners of myself. He's a wonder at disentangling my passive-aggressive soul, always ignoring my bluster and seeing clearly that I've given him free reign over the cluttered study of my mind. He can read anything he wants, if only he can find it. I won't stop him, but I won't help him either. He's a sucker for a good challenge, and I'm nothing if not difficult to understand. I don't consciously present myself that way; it's second nature for me. If below the surface I'm complicated enough, everyone will leave me the fuck alone. Except for him. He gleefully ignores the 'beware of Brian' signs and climbs the fence, carrying around a pocket of affection to assuage my inner cock. If he wasn't so easily charmed by everything he finds, he'd have me all figured out by now. My soul is fractured, but some of the bits are shiny, and he's a crow forever distracted by them. His nest is full of pieces of me, decorating it like so much glitter. I'm worth nothing but what value he bestows upon me.

Valued to the point of being priceless, paying for myself with what I've left behind

He has so fucking much of me, holding it safe and slowly piecing it back together. His love is an unshakable bond, one I revere even as I excoriate it. Perhaps if I vilify it enough, no one else will notice how precious it is. He is mine. He is mine, and he is me. More me than I am, to be sure, and suddenly my soul craves to visit itself, to at least for a moment rest in wholeness. It leaps and strains against its restraints, wanting me to let it surge forward, to shake off what I've draped over its eyes and put itself back together all at once. It wants to tell Justin how it feels, how I feel, how I know that he knows, that I know him and how he knows me.

Take my want, turn it into need and give it back as desire

I'm so close to doing it, to giving in and letting him know he's got control. I want to relax, to see how much he can take, how far he can push us to put me back together. I'm tired of carrying myself around, of constantly taking care not to let anyone have anything. I want to acknowledge how much I've let him, and only him, have. Does he know that I'm waiting for him, just outside the sunlight? Can he see me, straining to touch him even though he's miles away from me? I want to take this everycolored what-it-is and throw it wide, let it soar and flutter back down on our joined bodies, encompass us and declare us made. Made, or born.

Born in a world of made, two crawling down the same path

It's time, as it has been before and will be again, to welcome him back to where he's always been. Come inside, thaw me by this fire, lay me down and make us comfortable in our skin. In your skin, where mine finds itself written in teeth and sideways glances. Hold me open and let me go, I'll only fall back upon you when I crash back to earth.

To you

I am here, if you will only take yourself to me.

To me