Chapter 1 - want

I want to touch you. I want more than to be able to hold you and stick my head into the ever decreasing hollow where your neck meets your shoulder and just breathe in and out. I want to feel the brush of your face against my cheek as you relax into my arms.

I want to slip my hands under your button down but over your undershirt. I want to have that amorphous barrier between my fingertips and your skin. I want to feel the heat of your flaccid belly warm my palms, and imagine it getting rounder and firmer as I fill you brim full, and just a tiny bit further. I want to be the cause of the pain that makes you know you've earnt my praise.

I want to curl up beside you on a couch, you and wrap my arms around your ever increasing waist while we watch silly TV shows and you snack and snuggle and relax without any concern as to how you're perceived. I want to feel you grow warm and comfortable and drift off to sleep as the night grows late and the coffee cold.

I want to lie besides you on a bed, completely relaxed after feeling your weight on top of me, having ridden me until I'm spent. I want to lie my head on your soft chest and hear each individual heartbeat and marvel at the very fact of your existence as I play with your nipple and stroke your belly, feeling your hands move across my naked body.

I want my lips to trace every inch of your skin, learning and tasting you. I want to feel the rolls and the creases against my fingers and my mouth. I want to learn what makes you giggle. I want to find out what makes you gasp and moan and beg. I want to learn you like a violin and then write a symphony to play across your body.

I want to look down at you as I straddle you and feed you until you can hardly move. I want you to see the look of pleasure and pride and absolute joy in both the act of feeding you, and the trust you put in me in letting me stuff you. I want you to see the love and lust and yes, absolute adoration I feel towards you.

I want to be sitting by your side in a decade or so, holding your hand. I want to rest my head on your shoulder and breathe you in, years’ worth of memories behind us, and years more to go.

I want to be with you. Because you feel like home.