viewing his etchings

we were alone in the lab
and I yawned
bored
wanting you and sleep hours ago

I put the paper in the bath
while you put two fingers in the can of ink
and smeared over tiny lines in the glass
then wiped the excess away

when you called
I put the paper on the press
worked the crank
and when the ink was transferred
hung the print to dry
seeing

me
I remembered that night
although you hadn't sketched
while I stretched
eyes closed
arms bound above my head
back arched
panting
legs wide
for your fingers and tongue

I blushed
hot
wet
tingling with memory
my breath quick
as you stood behind me
your head touching mine
hands full of ink
declared it a clean print
and reached around to stain
my tee-shirt
with large black handprints

I turned to you
my voice caught
as I asked how many more
we would do
imagining your class
tearing apart the lines of my body
the thought was cold
when I wanted your heat
to warm me

you reached out your finger
black and shining
and touched my face
the ink was cold and smooth
on my skin
you promised it was for your private collection

that freed me to feel you
my hands were clean
as I tugged at your belt
and freed you
and knelt before you
and tasted you on the tip of my tongue
my lips tight around you
when I had a thought

I stopped and stared up at you
hands shaking
ready
and asked you if we could do one more

you caught my head
with ink-stained hands
to bring me close
and finish the job
and I swallowed hard
before you asked why
then laughed when I told you
I wanted a collection of my own