He is a head and a half taller than me and I have memorized this from the way his eyes are always downcast, and I,
Am always reaching for the hot, wet peak of his tongue

There is a dull pain in my neck but it shies in comparison to the dormant ache,
Asleep between my thighs
With calculated moves he stirs it to a raging fire
Even when I swear there’s enough humidity in the room to blanket this desire

He licks his lips, and they are the semi-perfect shade of vermillion glossed over with evil intent
And he swivels me around and whispers, turn around, when his body is already draped across the arch of mine

And in this moment, being this close,
friction is enough to **** me