Everything

Don't make me offend you by removing your hand again. It was sensory overload before, that's all.

But you don't venture any further. Your fingers rest on my pubic bone, touching my trimmed hair and seemingly just wanting to get a sense for the area while we continue. Just as before, it's intensely intimate, and strangely erotic. I never would have thought.

Then, your words return. You aren't forming clear sentences, but I don't care. I hear the words yes, baby, forever, now, and mine.

Yes, I am yours. I always will be.

I always was.

I turn my face back towards you, and our mouths connect again. I feel your hand race from my pelvis up to my face. You have my body locked up in a tight embrace as I begin to feel the rest of your body constrict against me.

You couldn't possibly fill me anymore as you begin to finish inside me. I nearly cry into your mouth as I feel the start of your climax, surely pushing against the front of my cervix, constricted by my slick walls. I can't figure out if you're that powerful, or if we're this powerful together.

Several labored breaths later, and we are laying wrapped in each other's arms, barely moving. Occasionally our lips find each other again, and my hand ruffles your hair to remind you I'm still here for you. As if you could forget.

Your arms tighten around me again in a sign of brazen affection. You bury your face in my hair again. This time, I initiate the withdrawal, as the hip I am lying on is beginning to stiffen up. I roll onto my other side, so I can face you properly. I also reach down and bring a few of the discarded blankets up with me. You begin to help me.

"Sorry about that," you tell me.

I shrug. "Not so overheated anymore?"

"Honestly, I just like to see you." My face might be flushing. I wasn't expecting that.

I tilt my jaw up to kiss you. This raw affection I have for you makes me feel like I never want to let you go.

We know we only have a few more hours. We have to clean up and change, then leave this room. We know we have to go back to the "real world" after we get out of here.

It's still very early, and I fall asleep in your arms for another hour or so. While I'm asleep, you order room service. To my shock and horror, it arrives shortly after I wake up, and you pay for it with cash you have been hiding from me.

You feed me eggs, bacon, and fruit, despite my protests. I am grateful. I often forget to eat when I am distracted by other things. Namely, you.

I call and ask for a late checkout. The front desk says we can leave at 1pm. We are ecstatic. You think I am some sort of wizard. I'm not. I just know how hotels work.

You join me for a shower.

We're more playful than anything else. I wash your hair. I also wash mine, simply because I don't trust you with hair longer than your own. You slow dance with me in the steam, just because you can.

I don't usually blow dry my hair, but I decide to now. It's a little chilly outside, and we have the time. You attempt to pull my focus the whole time. You loath not being the center of attention.

We re-pack our bags. I have to address our pile of formalwear on the floor, which we discarded the night before. I remember why it's there, and how it got there. Not to be over dramatic, but it seems like a world away. Are we different to each other, now? Are things different?

I separate our things, and it makes me a little sad. I know they're going to different places. I always knew that. But in the months following now, they will really be going to different places. Really, and truly.

My bag is packed, and so is yours. We scan the room once, twice, and another time, to make sure we haven't left anything behind.

"Your music," I say, and point to the clock radio you moved across the room.

"Got it," you answer. It would have been easy for you to leave it plugged in and walk out without it.

"Okay, well," I stall. "Do you want to take any little shampoos or anything? Or a lightbulb?" I jest. I'm a big fan of stealing things from hotels.

"Hey," you put your hands around my waist, as if we won't be seeing each other after we step out of this room. We still have the entire drive back and seemingly endless time together for the rest of the summer. It just won't be as private as this was.

"Hey," you repeat, as we lock eyes, "this was amazing."

"It was," I agree.

"I -- I only wanted it with you."

"Me too."

"Even if it might only be for now? Is that okay?"

I am quiet. I never know what you mean by things like this. It hurts, because I don't know what you want. It always feels like you're ashamed of me. We're never at the same place at the same time. Or like this isn't real. Or, some other variations of those things.

"Yeah, of course," I say instead.

You kiss my forehead and hug me to you. You feel relieved, like you were half expecting your statement to rope you into a conversation, and you're glad it didn't.

We pick up our bags and begin to walk out. You ask if we need to check out, and I say no. We can leave the keys in the room. We can just walk away.

We can walk away from this room, and this night, as is it.

I let you walk ahead of me down the hall as we leave, the opposite order we took last night when we arrived. Now, you're leading me away from the room, as opposed to how I had led you to the room. I get the sense you're ready to leave and continue our respective journeys.

I wonder how involved we will be in each other's stories going forward. We haven't promised each other anything. Just our hearts speaking to each other, the way they always have. I hope yours heard what mine was saying last night and into the morning. I've always trusted you to listen.

You have a perfect ear.

The next time, I'll be here to listen to everything you have to say. I hope I heard everything you told me in the last 24 hours, and not just what I wanted to hear. I also hope you said everything you wanted to say.

As long as you don't say goodbye.

Just don't tell me goodbye. I notice that you never let me say it, either.

That's the one thing we've never said to each other, and I hope we never do.