Before

"I can't imagine being with anyone else now," he says. "I haven't for a while." He's curled around me, arms and legs, and we radiate a comfortable heat.

A minute ago, he was crying out to a god he doesn't believe in, eyes wide and nerves in delicious flame.

A minute before that, my back was slightly concave; I tucked my thighs around his and smiled openly. We are a lock and key, and I can feel through his skin nearly as well as through mine.

And before that, I was exploring flesh with which I was well acquainted. My tongue needed no direction to trace the lines which made him groan.

Before that I was gasping. My heart pounded as he lifted his head and settled against me. He pressed his lips to my neck.

Before that I screamed without sound, having whispered "please don't stop" until he listened.

Before, he teased. The path of his lingering kisses made my blood race.

Before, we touched.

He laces his fingers through mine and I lean on his shoulder. "I love you so much."

"I love you."

And as much as this is newness, it's so right.