Good lord, I actually wrote something

Sex with him is like coming home.

I can barely blink when he is over me. He is barely outlined by the faint light sneaking through the blinds, but I know he is meeting my gaze in the dark. My breath catches in my chest and his breath comes faster as he moves inside me. Coherent thoughts are impossible. I run my hands over his back, trace his tattoos with my tongue. I love his skin.

Together, our breathing synchronizes in quick, shallow gasps. His thrusts become harder and faster, his fingers tighten on the sheets, and my nails dig into him. In the afterglow of my orgasm, I eagerly await his. He comes, and a small sound of pleasure escapes him, a sound that causes me several sequential shivers. Heart pounding, he lays upon me, so I happily massage his weary shoulders. My mind marvels at the hollow loneliness that shrouded me when I had first crawled into bed, when he was still at work. Alone with my oppressive despair, I doubted everything and colored my world with pessimism. I laid on my side, looking out the window at the moonlit rooftop beyond, comparing my life to the bleak surface of the shingles. After a time, I slipped mercifully into sleep.

Now, he lifts himself up onto his elbows, watching me. He trails his fingers over my cheek, then follows them lightly with his lips. They roam over my cheekbones, my eyebrows, my chin, my nose, and finally, my mouth, where I accept the most tender kiss I have ever experienced. He brushes the bangs from my brow, and continues to look down at me.

I do not trust myself to speak. I know if I open my mouth, I will tell him I love him, and it is just too soon for that. So I remain silent and concentrate on relaxing, trying to stop my body from trembling. I consider how my room doesn’t feel cozy when he is gone, how the house doesn’t feel like home, and how my bed feels so cold. He brings me warmth, comfort, security; he brings me joy and pleasure, and coaxes an appreciation of being alive from somewhere in me that even I can’t reach. And in some ways, the way he makes me feel is completely indescribable.

When I turn toward the window, his arm wraps around me, and his warm frame snuggles into my back. This time, I admire the beauty of the pale moonlight, the texture of the shingles, and the shadows of the leaves, and blissfully, I drift into sleep.