Another one of my “A Letter to My Crush” series. I have to warn you that this one might get a bit…explicit, so consider this as a trigger warning. Otherwise, read on!
God, when did this happen? This…feeling? It just…happened.
And it’s not like I just met you. No, I’ve known for close to two years, in college, and it’s absolutely crazy that I’m starting to fall in love with you.
Now I’m not saying that it’s a bad thing to fall head over heels for you. What makes me frustrated is that it’s only right now that I’m beginning to do so, in my last year of school; after this year, I’m gone, potentially moving far, far away where I can’t see you, touch you, talk to you.
Even more frustrating is the fact that I don’t know if you like me that way, too. Trust me, I’ve looked for signs, all of them, and still, I don’t know. I really don’t know. How you look at me with those amazingly large cinnamon eyes, your wide, fine-lined smile giving me the shivers whenever you direct it at me. Spreading over the sides of your face, eclipsing the rest of your features with such happiness that makes me smile, too. How I love to make you laugh, just to see that lovely smile.
Our evening walks from school to home, our apartments nearby each other. Talking about nothing in particular, but at the same time about something. About our day at school, club events, plans for the weekend, plans for the future. The big, scary future. Your compassion astounds me, how you have so much empathy to give, for just me. I don’t deserve it- at least, not all of it. Your way of carefully choosing your words when you speak, when mine just runs on full motor, wild and unfiltered. I always feel like I’m making an ass out of myself whenever I talk to you. But you don’t mind. I want more walks with you, more conversations, more time with you.
These thoughts of you stay with me even during sleep; at night when I lie in bed, I imagine myself with you. In this bed. The possibilities that we could have.
What I want to do is take you. Take me. Melting into your mouth, playing with your wild, long curls between my fingers, inhaling your sweet scent against my salty skin. Clasping hands, fingers entwined like roots of a tree that only we grow together. Pressing into you, feeling that ache in my breast against your breasts, full and tender, and I want to feel them warm and bare.
I want to take you to bed naked. Our bodies fitting together like jigsaw puzzles, filling each crevice of our legs, our breasts, our stomachs. Brushing your neck and jawline with my lips, before whispering in your ear,
“I want to make love to you.”
And I will. Your hips rocking with mine as I enter you, your shudders making me shudder wet thoughts. Fantasy thoughts. Eyes closed, faint creases near your eyes as you desperately hold on to this moment, before the climax.
The long sigh escaping your lips as you release your pleasure between my thighs, warm and translucent syrup. Love-juice, as they call it.
But I don’t care for that. What I care for is your happiness. The fact that I gave you my love and your love to me. Symbiosis, an exchange of heart sighs and memories.
And you will smile. That same smile that stole my heart when I first fell in love with you. How it struck me like the moon, now present under where we lie, together.
For I…I just want you.
– The Finicky Cynic