Confessions of a libra

Artist: unknown

25.11.24

His touch scratched every itch within me. The warmth of his hands enveloping mine extended safety over my heart. The ease of his presence calmed me. His eyes saw me in a way that was affirming. I felt seen, adored and appreciated. It tickled me to see him flustered at my words, at my beauty. I felt more feminine, more intelligent, more magnetic. Like opposing poles, our bodies were drawn to each other. We were sitting so close to each other as though willing the other to merge. He drew laughs from me with a comfortable ease. The moments that weighed on him as he poured out his memories to share, were the moments he shone the brightest. His history, a tangled web of life’s most egregious tragedies. He wore life’s scars with his held head high. Battered and bruised by circumstance he was shrouded in melancholy, yet I saw the little ember of light that flickered within. That light is why I sat across from him that morning. That light was the reason he showed me all his scars and hoped that though history had not been as kind that I would be.

So I was. Not that it was hard to be his comfort. He elicited feelings of protectiveness within me, from the moment we spoke. As he bared his heart and his soul to me, a passionate force grew within me. I made a promise to myself that as long as I was in his life, as long as he allowed, I would slay all the dragons. I would fiercely protect his heart, his boundaries and slay his bullies. I wanted to nurture him in a way he had not been nurtured. I wanted to show him the deep ocean of my heart. I wanted him to know that he had fanned the dying ember within me. I was becoming jaded. I was losing hope. My love was unappreciated, yet it craved to be shared. Finally, with him there my heart bloomed within my chest.

He was the perfect juxtaposition of dangerous and safe. Dangerous because he had a recklessness in him that I recognised and had gotten me in trouble. Hell, it had gotten him in trouble. He was gentle though. Gentle with his words to me, gentle in his touch, gentle in his kisses. His tender touches left a thirst in me. His public kisses on my hand, on my cheek, on my neck. I wanted to feel his hands all over my body. I knew the ecstasy he would bring me primally. I watched him stumble over his words as we discussed the possibility of exploring each other’s bodies. I watched him blush and his eyes lower. I grew bolder, I knew what I wanted more than ever. It felt like I had never wanted anything more than I did in that moment.

I unravelled in his capable arms. He wanted exactly everything I had and everything I was. He drank me in with all his senses. My body was primed like a live wire. Every lick and bite stoked the flames of want or need. I fit in his arms expertly and he explored my body patiently. I wanted to please him more but he was ravaging me so well I didn’t have time to think coherently. I murmured his name over and over. I wanted him to know how undone I became with each ministration. He was focused and devoted. I came over and over for him. There were little moments I don’t think he will know that I cherished. I liked the way he closed his eyes in pleasure. I liked how comfortable I felt in my body around him. I liked the little rumbles he made in his throat when he liked something. I adored the face he made when he too came for me. He. Took. Care. Of. Me. I withheld so many words that I feared were too irrational to say yet I had never had the urge to say them so soon to someone. I told him as many affirming words as I could regardless. Maybe I will tell him, eventually…