Summary: One of the ten drabbles I will be posting daily failed at posting daily till Christmas day.
Feedback: I wants it, my precious.
Disclaimer: I think if I owned Muse, you would know about it. They're a bit famous so I doubt it'd be something easily hidden.
Warning: References to sex.
Note: WEEEE Done and caught up with my 10 drabbles. Off to color my hair at 3AM, shower, and then start Infinity. Like a bossss.
By definition, love is a “profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person” and a “feeling of warm personal attachment.”
Those are only just words though, because nothing can and never will be able to describe the intensity of everything that you are and everything that you mean to me.
The reflection of a setting sun in your indigo and star-flecked eyes sets my heart at a tempo relatable to an allegro-paced musical number. The curve of your flushed lips as you smile at the moon is so radiant that for a moment I have to remind myself to breathe. You exude a simple, quiet confidence and it’s gloriously divine how well it suits you. Your hair, for the moment fluffy and cherry red, embraces your face and the contrast is positively mouthwatering.
I choose to ignore the fact we’ve only been together a few months because despite the short length, I feel closer to you in soul than I have ever felt for any religious invention. You have possessed me in nearly every sense of the word but I love that your dominance extends only as far as emotion because I could never give up the feeling of you begging and crying pleas beneath me.
Another definition of love is a “sexual passion or desire.”
My god, the passion I have for you ascends above traditional love-making and into a realm of spirit and connection and a near-religious experience each and every time.
With you, nothing is ever normal.
With you, I am something to be deemed as perfect because you tell me I am.
With you, I reach heights that I never thought possible.
The arch of your back as you moan into your pillow turns me on faster than any person I’ve ever bedded. Your exhibitionist tendencies make me want to be wild and careless so I can better understand your blatant love of freedom. The strain of your tendons as your slender, strong hand wraps around my most intimate area is a piece of art. The column of your neck makes me quiver with the desire to taste it.
All I want is in the whisper of your breath and the storm of your eyes.
All I have ever needed is in grace of your body and the silk of your love.
You are Eros incarnate and your skin tastes of fermented wine.
You are mine, and I am yours, and we are always.