a constant craving.

I crave your touch.

A newer sensation, as I would never had said I was one for wanting to be touched. Occasionally, maybe fleetingly before. They say never say never.

Is it because it's your primary language? Your words are rarer morsels, but your touch given more often. I'm not sure. I don't want to chase the thought either. Maybe one day I'll know.

My aversion has always been there. Touch was something taken from me at times when I didn't want to give it. I haven't felt that with you. If anything, I notice it more when you don't touch me. Odd thing, that.

When I submit to you, it's my choice. I'm not callously throwing myself at someone who won't appreciate what they're being given- a part of me. You're not taking more than you ought.

I look into your eyes in the more intimate moments, and get lost. My aversion to eye contact having fallen away, which hasn't been the case before. I've told you a bit about that. I haven't told you I always kept them closed in moments like those. Always.

The boops on the nose, the nuzzling. The kisses that deepen, and the kisses that don't. All of it.

a constant craving.