He made his bed with fresh sheets and asked to see me. I could tell in his text he wanted all night that we were going to have one of those days just us under a tree starring out at the pigeons. Its what we do. Sitting in parks on the grass going to the huntarian and foyles ;P we tell eachother as we recount interactions. Chinatown the little store my wonder in and out of shops bao and goji berries and boba tea. offering to go to the blues brothers film his favorite movie as a kid. The Vietnamese restaurant where he insulted me for buying his time. I was always vulnerable to him always wanting his love willing to listen about her and share my meal to nurture him, share my affection to ease his loneliness. Listening to him tall about his lack of fear. Foolhearty
A fool of hearts. I don't know what to do in these moments stronger but yet still unhinged by him. We play like dogs do go wild in the night like wolves biting and licking and showing our teeth. How can you not believe in past lives? I tell him I knew him in one he tells me im crazy. A crazy hippie.  I tell him I love him

he hugs me tight like a heart would pump beat rhythmically pulling me closer with an expand for breath. I am marked now all over, writhing with pain and delight as he breaks skin, as the surge within me to fight springboards me over him and he is surprised and smiling. We continue to wrestle to kiss soft and tender at moments and then fierce and full of kink. He puts his pointed finger across my mouth for me to bite yo bite down hard like a brace and pulls me lip up to look at my teeth to lick them, to lick my face. I have fire and fight in me that i've always wanted to share, I wipe my face and put it on him he pulls away like a child and o feel pleased at my defensive attack. I lick him back, I lick him on the chest on the sides, his ribs his hip bones. He is skinny but I already knew that. To me his body is perfect. The Kafka story is new and raised on his left upper arm with the picture duncan x drew out for him the trephaning tool lies just below it. Of course a trephaning toolkit I think as ever since I eas in early college and learned they were used archaically too drill holes in peoples brains to let the crazy out, to rid the mind of bad spirits, and called my writing such: trephaning. So when I ask you what your thinking and you say nothing its because you say its all empty space like ether like nonexistence. I forget you are a nihilist. I remember you are in love with Russian literature. You tell me you're waiting to hear about the scholarship but that you'll be going to school next month to learn the language and culture of the cold country where bearded look alikes give their lives to the cold. You're so saturnian and stern needing control willing to submit it spurts, this surrender is my proof. The moments you shake your head I've made your heart race and your thoughts turn in on yourself. You're trying to do the right thing, whatever that is, proof your mind isn't as vapid as you pretend. Proof you actually worry a lot. You press on my ribs with yours, they feel aligned and intense and it makes it hard for me to breathe but in a way that feels like an activation of life in a way that feels like a puzzle pushed into place. I tell you that I like it you put your hands on my ribs to squeeze them, I am your plaything and your eyes bare into me your face cameluoning with emotion Fluxiating like doors slightly open and then shut, I only get a glimpse and most of the time that feels like intuiting glances. You bite me on my arms upper and inner several times the forearms less the stomach several times you claw around my sides making the shaped animals do when they bat something about prey that is near dead and ready for consumption. We are above the belt and skin to skin as you lift my shirt to choke me with the material as you feel yourself shift from animal to man and you touch my left breasta pull down my bra and suckle me back into yourself your creature then retract to stare at both breasts and startle yourself into judgement and pull my shirt back down slightly to keep you from doing what you want which is to fuck me to ravage my body more than this. You bite my face hard tracing your way up my jaw my left upper cheek closest to ny eye. Its too hard I squeal and push you off you appoligize and continue to ask intermitedly if im alright if its too much. I tell you im more than alright as your teeth clamp down ling and the surge of adrenaline rushes in to ease the pain. The ache of my body still lingers and I writhe underneath the weight of you. As you hold me down I am surrender I am not bracing for the pain but instead taking in every tender moment you kiss me and trusting you fully as I open to your ferocity your hunger and your fight. I am scratching your back clawing your chest with my head pressed against your belly I eant to be here I want to stay here forever. How Robinson keep these moments. I lick your sides go over your ribs rhythmic as if to make music you are jumpy as you say sensitive with jerking motions as I run my hands down your back as I give pressure its an indication that you've been hurt before. You writhe and jerk as I press as if you were a mechanical device with buttons all over. Its almost alarming and o feel sinister about it as you could very well be my puppet flailing about. I tickle your sides that's how it all began pressed up against the edge of your bed. I turn the tickle off and teach you to do the same, breathe it in intensify it obliterate it. You try but fail and soon I do too as I am spread out in your bed ready for some ritual sacrifice. We tumble about but you are mostly on top holding my wrists my mouth licking and biting me kissing me tenderly and then tearing me apart. Scrapping your tongue on the edges of my teeth my open mouth licking fingers kissing with my hand and your hand in front of our mouths. I pull at your beard and your hair I comb through it with my fingers and get stuck. I have dreamed of this exact moment like a prophecy. It stuns me and the realization is strong. You wont fuck me. But I do feel you grind upon me hard and with passionate lust you pull my legs in a backwards lotus hold my feet at their tips like a blossom with hinges being held shut and make like you'll fuck me you press into me over and over again until you turn me over and top me and I call you a tease. Until I play it fair and top you feeling the hard of your erection contained in your tight ripped black jeans so worn you'd think they we're some other material si worn I tell you you need new ones as you walk up the steps and I see the patch has failed and your tiny ass peeks out like its starring out a window the hair of your pail skin and leg graceful and vulnerable to the light tucked away in your boxer briefs small so they hug your slender build. I am rubbing against you now pressing my forearm against your chest, holding back your arms intermittedly, kissing you long wanting your tenderness staring intobyour eyes you ask me what im thinking that I like the way you touch me. What are you thinkung. Nothing he reminds me. He is always reminding me he isn't thinking when its clear there is so much going in. He's not good with hiding that and his worda contradict but I don't press him for words impress him for sex for his bodyguard forbhis lust weighted and matched against mine