~Posy/PolkaDotMama
Edward
Ocher
Ocher. Such an ugly color.
The color of mud: cracked and dry beneath my feet.
The color of spice: intense and burning my mouth.
The color of wood: varied yet somehow constant.
The color of earth: grounding and solid, like gravity.
I feel it.
The color of curls: gold and brown and yellow and sunlight.
There is something there that I haven’t seen for weeks: a quiet strength that is growing just under the surface.
I study and paint, trying to reveal what I see, what I sense in him. It’s all radiance.
Ocher. The most beautiful color I’ve seen.
Porcelain
So smooth under my fingertips as I trace again and again. My hand can’t seem to get enough of the feel; the way the tiny imperfections are barely noticed until I concentrate on seeking them out.
I know them by heart. I touch them with reverence in the same way every time. My mouth aches to kiss them lightly.
But he’s begging for more of me. He aches for my cock in his ass to be buried deeper and hit him just so. We cry out together.
I kiss his scars as I’ve craved since the moment he turned over.
Persuasive
I can hear him in his bathroom, showering, shaving, brushing his teeth while I lie on his unmade bed. There’s no reason to pull the sheet up over my chest. I’ll be leaving his room the second he departs for work. Perhaps I’ll return to sleep with him if I’m not already passed out.
I want us to sleep together each and every night in our bed.
Our clothes piled together and our socks getting mixed up.
Our hearts beating against heated skin and sharing the naked truth he craves.
There must be a way to persuade him it’s right.
Jasper
Haze
He stands underneath the streetlight patiently. The only reason I can see him is because of the ethereal glow. Otherwise he’d be lost in the mist and haze of the fine rain and shadowy midnight.
I can’t stand it anymore. There’s more to do but I need to be closer to him.
I walk out.
His back is to the door and the sound of my steps are muted by the rain.
I finger his hair.
His face lights up as he turns to me. I taste his mouth and smile.
Zoë shouts from inside that she’ll finish-up for me.
Undulating
It moves and shifts with the subtlest of kinetic energy, forming waves and eddies that can be felt and seen.
This is his sanctuary, it seems, so we come and he swims and pushes himself. I watch and swim. But mostly watch how his body moves with the currents, riding them, affecting them, creating them.
The waves are moving with fury but I’m helping this time.
I ride his dick. Water splashes. Ripples are formed.
I ride him hard.
He fucks me hard.
Long after we come I can still feel the waves of our love on the water’s surface.
Effervescent
They rise in tiny, slim lines to the top of the narrow glass as I make my way through the gallery greeting people I know intimately and those whose faces are utterly foreign to me. I’ve seen every single piece that is hanging on these walls yet I look at his pieces in the magnificent lighting and see them transformed.
And then I see the one that has caused him the most heartache.
It’s powerful and terrifying and angry.
But as I look deeper, I see the hidden messages buried in tiny, slim lines making their way through the pain.
oh these boys...*sighs and smiles* Thanks, bb
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