“I kiss you so softly. I feel everything so deeply, yet I know my body is telling me to lower the feeling so I can just experience you, stripped down, without noise. This is the additive, the reason why it’s so good for me. Because it allows me to experience sex stripped down, without the noises. And with that, I think we’ve found the clue that’ll help me heal from a portion of the addiction.

I hold your shoulders and sigh heavily as I ride you slowly, not saying a word, feeling it all so profoundly, soaking inside you, soaking inside me. I absorb the melodies that would’ve been, I see the naked lines.

I grip your hips and press them to me as I ride you, my eyes close. Somehow, this also makes sense for us. I keep riding without making a sound. I’m completely inside you, you’re completely inside me. This feels like heaven creating its first musical note, except it’s just air.

Oh, baby, I ride you so slowly. I take your hands and kiss every finger, fingertip, and palm. I place your palms on the sides of my cheeks as my lips part. I squeeze them together and pray to get better, pray that we get stronger from this. I pray as if I were pious. I pray so hard, baby. I pray and I cry as I ride you, as you ride me.

I hold your waist as I ride you. I don’t need to speak, I don’t need to make a noise. I moan slow, low. All I need is you. All I’ve ever needed was you. My heart gets bigger, my love gets bigger. Magically, the names all come out of me, every single name I’ve had inside me comes out: Varian Fry, Ed Nygma, Mick Milkovich. I moan as I ride you. Oh God, I moan. Then I’m quiet. Nothing but the wet noises that we make echoing in the delivery room of this hospital we’re still in. Nothing but the noises that our bodies make, nothing but the feeble grunts, nothing but the snoring of the babies.

How I want nothing more than to be able to learn about love. I’ve learned so weakly, I’ve learned so poorly. In a world of love, in my world, there is so much love. It cannot be this world. I must close my doors to the belief that this world is deserving of my vision of love. As a fae, I feel so broken. Living as a human, the humans have destroyed everything that we’ve given them. That is why they’re not worthy of this kind of love; they will murder. That is what they’re good for. It’s all they’ve ever been good for.

I feel our wet noises. I feel them absolutely, but make no noises except for grunting. They echo in the room, and I feel myself being imprinted on you, you being imprinted on me.

Oh, baby, we ride well. We ride as if we’re both on horses and we’re hoping to be somewhere very far away, somewhere where we could ride and never be interrupted. Our desire for being 19 together astounds me. To abandon adulthood, 19—thrust into the throes of the teetering balance of young adult and adulthood. Or is that 21? I’m not yet sure. This all sounds poetic, this feeling comes out of me so poetically, and I never had one experience of the same make. You are something special. I often feel guilt, I’ve always known guilt. I feel it with you tenfold, but it’s my fault for fucking other people. In truth, I do it all on my own. You’re my one and only, and I use them to— to what exactly I’m not sure of. But I’ve solved one thing: the feeling of extremes, of feeling you, feeling the sex, being stripped down. That’s what I crave, the space to express my thought, to let my mind wander. I want this, baby. I’ve always wanted this, to let myself wander with you in thought.

I stare up at you as the grunting is too much. This stripped-down version of us, I crave it so badly. I want it to be our norm, to feel like this, to feel one with the universe. Baby, please say you want this too.”
© Fae 💕