Same bed. Different contracts. He thought chemistry was the agreement. I wanted a sentence. That mismatch is how a good night becomes a whole winter.
Tag: consent
Drink can make a bad idea feel cinematic. Daylight and tea do not. I like the ones still filthy when nobody has an excuse left.
The night is not finished when you finish. Sit up. Talk rubbish. Touch my back. That quiet bit is how I decide you get another.
If you rush I stay in my head fixing my face. Give me a minute to get stupid. That is when it gets good both.
No speech about my past. No scoreboard on the night. Just appetite and a bit of manners. Rare. I remember them far too bloody long.
A bruise with no text after is just mess on skin. If you claim the body, you can claim the morning as well afterwards too.
I can feel when you are half in the room. Hands on me, eyes on a screen, I go cold. Be here. Notifications can wait.
I want the warm-up first. Then I want you to mean it. Soft the whole way through feels like you are frightened of me really.
The sex ended and the customer service started. I do not want a form. I want you to read my body and then shut up.
There is a difference and you can feel it immediately. Hold me there. Do not treat my head like some handle from cheap porn films.