Huni, baby, babe—
honey, suga, sugar sweets,
sweetums, pumpkin,
sweetypie, sugar dumplin’,
sugar cakes—
sweet lips,
sweet neck,
yummy cheeks.

Sweet tongue.
Soft laughter.

Fingers sliding
smoothly
through a lovely head of hair.

Eyes close—
complete ecstasy,
fully relaxed,
loving every stroke.

Rubbing her chest,
staring longingly
as she closes her eyes.

A kiss on her forehead.
A wide grin
with every touch,
every stroke,
every occasional kiss.

My heart flutters with joy.

He knows
he may not always be here.
He knows
to make every moment count.

Sweet kisses up her hand,
a trail of tongue
across warm skin.

She appreciates
every moment—
knowing
these seconds are sacred.

She kisses him back—
head to cheeks,
nose to lips—
loving the way
their mouths meet.

He hasn’t felt
his own heart
in a while.

It struggles
with this new impulse
created by touch.

He embraces her,
holds her hands
to steady himself.

He speaks
of many lovers—
comfort, status, talk, money—
never love.

Their endings
all the same.

They returned.
He never stayed.

He knew love’s twin deception.
He knew it well.

He kisses her again.
Her eyes close—
not sleeping,
but processing.

She opens them,
searching his.

He looks away,
searching his own soul.

She could be devoured.
She could be kept.
Who really knows?

He returns to her gaze
with a smile.

More stories—
dark confessions,
misunderstood days,
impulses and regrets.

He understood much,
did much,
but was moved
by little.

“Do you know why?” he asks.

She doesn’t.
But she wants to.

He holds her closer,
jokes about high school,
plays with her ear.

She kisses his chest,
smiling in comfort.

His eyes glisten.

Windfall breaths
over her shoulder,
down her back.

How much does she want him?
What does she see in him?
Could she conquer him?
Would conquering him
kill his hunger?

Can he settle?

She lays her head
on his chest—
listening.

She wants him.
More than a friend.

She knows he is
amazing, complicated—
worth the work.

She believes
she is valuable,
but fears discovering
she is not enough.

Will this moment last?
Or is it just
another beautiful fragment?

“I’ve grown used to being alone,” he says.
“I save myself—
but it’s my soul I worry for.”

He stares past ceilings
into stars
that know his name.

“I like your company.
I like you.”

Simple truth.

She whispers:
“I’m here.
Always.”

She kisses his chest,
listens to the melody
of his heartbeat.

He smiles.

“I’ve taught love
to everyone
except myself.
I hated people—
the only way I survived
was by loving them.”

She laughs, confused,
pulls him close.

“Self-love is powerful,” she says.
“You’re amazing.
Stop doubting yourself.”

He teases.
She laughs louder.

He runs his tongue
along her collarbone,
kisses her chin.

“I’m teasing you—
and you should like it.”

She smiles wide.
He wraps her hair
around his fingers,
nibbles her neck.

Her heartbeat quickens.
A soft moan.

Neck—
her weakness.

She pulls him closer.
He whispers against her ear.
She laughs again.

They move—
skin to skin,
breath to breath.

All things
may not begin perfect.

But great nights
often end
with the perfect kiss.