You kiss me, and I forget how to breathe. Is your heart pounding like mine? I press my hand to your chest and feel your pulse—it pounds and pounds like the music on the dance floor, pounds like mine, erratic and wild.
The mattress welcomes us.
For a long moment, we only kiss. That moment is a glorious forever; it’s the kiss that will always be.
Just you, just me, just a kiss.
It should have stopped there.
But it didn't.
It wasn't ever going to.
The moment we locked eyes on the dance floor, we both knew how this was going to go.
The kiss becomes something else.
It's a fusion of souls.
But it's just a kiss. Just a stupid kiss.
Hands cup aching flesh. Lips suckle, tongues taste rivulets of sweat. Thigh against thigh, sliding and crushing. Fingers entwine, palm to palm, squeezing tightly as we find each other.
You move slowly over me. You do not look away from me, and I cannot even blink. Cannot breathe.
I am lost.
I taste your heartbeat in the instant before we crash into each other. We cling to one another, gasping, mouth to mouth, breast to breast, heartbeats shattering in unison, flesh mated and moving.
You kiss my eyes as we come together.
—That's just sweat.
You don't believe me any more than I believe myself.
But then, your cheeks taste of salt as well. I kiss them and kiss them and taste your tears.
You're inside me; it's endless; I'm breathless.
But then, I'm inside you, too.
It lasts forever. We move and we dance and we don't say a word.
You devour me.
I envelop you.
You come, shuddering and silent.
Who knows the rhythm of the hours we spend, tangled in the bedsheets? I don't. You don't. There is no clock, only the stars fading and the moon receding to a dim silver sliver as black sky becomes gray and gray becomes pink.
I gasp against your lips once more, our orgasms synchronized and endless, and I'm weeping and you're seeking the truth in my soul through the windows of my eyes, and I hear the words I won't let you say and I hear my own words like ghosts in a graveyard, my own truths hidden in the rampant chaos of my pulse as we come together, and you shake and you tremble and you cling to me.
Dawn is red and orange and pink fire in the sky as our last night on earth comes to a close.
What if—
Those two words hang between us. Did I say them? Did you?
