Uncharted
Hold My Heart
He was strong, but more gentle than anyone I had ever encountered. When he swept his thumb across my cheek, cupped my chin in his hand, I relaxed. His rough hands felt like silk against my skin. He had pulled me on top of him, like a scene from a movie, stroking his fingers through my hair. He was younger than I, and so ambitious it put me to shame. It had never been this easy.
His lips were soft, velvety, luxuriant. Kissing him was exhilarating in more than just the usual new relationship way—if this was even a relationship. Just the way he held me made me smile. His skin was salty in the midsummer heat. Soft, rugged, salty, and pressed up against mine.
His fingers trailed down my sides, his lips down my neck, and somehow we became entangled. He was slow, respectful, positioning himself above me. Hovering. It was surreal.
I was no stranger to the horizontal tango, but this was immediately different. The gentle kisses. The soft weaving of his fingers through my hair. I was always nervous the first time. This was natural, easy, poetic. We had only just started seeing one another, so I knew this was still the so called honeymoon phase and the shimmer and sun kissed glow of it all would wear off. But the perfection of this moment was unparalleled. Despite the dark depiction of our actions, this was pure; a moment of unadulterated elation.
The perks of sleeping with a physicist included a pretty quick uptake on the mechanics of the situation. Everything was flawless and dimly lit like a romance novel depiction of sex. It was effortless. Natural. A cinematic play-by-play, our bodies disrobed and pressed together, writhing back and forth, collapsing in a mess of pillows and sheets when we finished.
We talked endlessly that night, wrapped in each others arms. I was clad only in his t-shirt, and my hair was a disheveled mess—a far cry from how it had been earlier—but I never felt so at home. It was a Friday night in late July, our first actual date. I teased him about that fact. Dinner, a movie, meeting my parents, and sex. All in one night. It was like we had fast forwarded through the beginning parts of a relationship and wound up in this comfortable place where things no longer made sense without one another.
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
During his summer camping trip with the guys I distracted myself with work and family drama that arose. I had little doubt that it was easier on him because he was the one who left and departed this new routine. It was always easier for the one who was leaving. It was all in my head, the feelings of abandonment. All of it the result of years of relationship failures. This hasn’t even been classified as a relationship yet.
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
It was a Sunday. I tirelessly cleaned and primped myself to see him. He joined us for family dinner, then swept me away to meet his family. It was early August and the first time I was seeing him in nearly a week. I had been nervous that maybe in my absence he hadn't missed me, or he'd forgotten the spark we’d had. My worries were needless. There was no hesitation, no pause when he swept me off of my feet to kiss me, to calm my fears that this would end like my last relationship. I fell into his embrace, and knew in that moment I was falling in love—falling fast and furiously.
His lips were soft, velvety, luxuriant. Kissing him was exhilarating in more than just the usual new relationship way—if this was even a relationship. Just the way he held me made me smile. His skin was salty in the midsummer heat. Soft, rugged, salty, and pressed up against mine.
His fingers trailed down my sides, his lips down my neck, and somehow we became entangled. He was slow, respectful, positioning himself above me. Hovering. It was surreal.
I was no stranger to the horizontal tango, but this was immediately different. The gentle kisses. The soft weaving of his fingers through my hair. I was always nervous the first time. This was natural, easy, poetic. We had only just started seeing one another, so I knew this was still the so called honeymoon phase and the shimmer and sun kissed glow of it all would wear off. But the perfection of this moment was unparalleled. Despite the dark depiction of our actions, this was pure; a moment of unadulterated elation.
The perks of sleeping with a physicist included a pretty quick uptake on the mechanics of the situation. Everything was flawless and dimly lit like a romance novel depiction of sex. It was effortless. Natural. A cinematic play-by-play, our bodies disrobed and pressed together, writhing back and forth, collapsing in a mess of pillows and sheets when we finished.
We talked endlessly that night, wrapped in each others arms. I was clad only in his t-shirt, and my hair was a disheveled mess—a far cry from how it had been earlier—but I never felt so at home. It was a Friday night in late July, our first actual date. I teased him about that fact. Dinner, a movie, meeting my parents, and sex. All in one night. It was like we had fast forwarded through the beginning parts of a relationship and wound up in this comfortable place where things no longer made sense without one another.
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
During his summer camping trip with the guys I distracted myself with work and family drama that arose. I had little doubt that it was easier on him because he was the one who left and departed this new routine. It was always easier for the one who was leaving. It was all in my head, the feelings of abandonment. All of it the result of years of relationship failures. This hasn’t even been classified as a relationship yet.
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
It was a Sunday. I tirelessly cleaned and primped myself to see him. He joined us for family dinner, then swept me away to meet his family. It was early August and the first time I was seeing him in nearly a week. I had been nervous that maybe in my absence he hadn't missed me, or he'd forgotten the spark we’d had. My worries were needless. There was no hesitation, no pause when he swept me off of my feet to kiss me, to calm my fears that this would end like my last relationship. I fell into his embrace, and knew in that moment I was falling in love—falling fast and furiously.