Previous - this entry written on December 14, 2002 at 8:39 am - Next
I can see you so clearly, every motion, the rise and fall of your shoulders as you breathe, the faint shift of your hair as you manage to stifle an urge to look up at me. I can see you kneeling there, your head bowed, your body tense. Waiting. Hoping. Throat bared, unadorned by any mark of favor or proof of ownership... and in my hand, a slender leather strap, carefully-designed silver buckle and surprisingly sturdy steel lock waiting to fasten it shut. *soft smile*
I am dreaming of you. Wide awake, my eyes open, you are not here beside me, not near enough to read this, not close enough for me to touch, and yet you ARE here, tangled in my thoughts. I could not tear you from them even if I wished to, so firmly bound are you within every waking thought and every sleep-blurred moment.
You touch me. Hands so gentle, hesitant, you touch me as if you can scarcely believe I am there. Your fingers trace along my arm, your cheek soft against my skin. My eyes follow the motion, my own hand still tangled in your hair, then gliding down, fingertips dancing along your shoulders. Purring. Content to touch and be touched, allowing such contact because it pleases me... and pleased because I am allowing it.
There is the faint hint of music somewhere in the background, techno beat running ragged through my mind. It colors my dreams and adds rhythm to my murmured words. Soft noises, mine and yours, blending with each note and forming something new, beautiful. The sound of your breathing is precious to me. The sight of you, eyes closed, a faint smile flickering across lips so often solemn, makes me nearly gasp with pleasure, excitement, joy.
You make me feel alive. You make me feel as if I am still asleep. You seem so delicate, here in my arms, kneeling at my feet, following behind me or walking beside me.
I am dreaming of you.
Previous - Next
Hosted by Diaryland - All Rights Reserved - Image, Layout, and Content copyright Jax Raven -
- Do Not Feed The Moose -