(Extract from if I told you that you're everything)
This is the space between dreams, and waking.
He's kissing Dave's familiar mouth; Dave's familiar hands on his body, inside his body, his bare limbs rocking the glossy surface of the Steinway. But, oh, Dave tastes different, his hands are calloused from guitar strings and they're not, they're somehow different too; he loves Dave, belongs to Dave, but it seems Dave's not the only one.
He's deep inside Arch's body, his own body on the edge of release, he's not sure where his hands end and Andrew's begin, everything frantic and stroking and clutching, heat and need. He can't be silent any longer, his moans breaking from him; he hears Arch's little noises. Knows his brother's kissing Arch, his throat, his groaning mouth. Then leaning over, grabbing his hair, kissing, oh God, kissing him.
He's kissing a lush mouth. The lips are Arch's and they taste like ripe fruit, like innocence. And then they're not Arch's, they taste the way his own mouth tastes, his own sweat tastes, like something he knows and will never know. He tastes something forbidden, grinds against something forbidden, something that he's wanted for so long, in his dreams, in wakefulness. He's falling, then he's floating, flying, he's rising up and up.
And the three of them, swaying, writhing, on the brink of coming, coming to wakefulness, they...they finally surface.
Re: ...If I told you that you're everything - [R]
This is the space between dreams, and waking.
He's kissing Dave's familiar mouth; Dave's familiar hands on his body, inside his body, his bare limbs rocking the glossy surface of the Steinway. But, oh, Dave tastes different, his hands are calloused from guitar strings and they're not, they're somehow different too; he loves Dave, belongs to Dave, but it seems Dave's not the only one.
He's deep inside Arch's body, his own body on the edge of release, he's not sure where his hands end and Andrew's begin, everything frantic and stroking and clutching, heat and need. He can't be silent any longer, his moans breaking from him; he hears Arch's little noises. Knows his brother's kissing Arch, his throat, his groaning mouth. Then leaning over, grabbing his hair, kissing, oh God, kissing him.
He's kissing a lush mouth. The lips are Arch's and they taste like ripe fruit, like innocence. And then they're not Arch's, they taste the way his own mouth tastes, his own sweat tastes, like something he knows and will never know. He tastes something forbidden, grinds against something forbidden, something that he's wanted for so long, in his dreams, in wakefulness. He's falling, then he's floating, flying, he's rising up and up.
And the three of them, swaying, writhing, on the brink of coming, coming to wakefulness, they...they finally surface.