Forget Me Not

by Karissa Kinword

“Come back to me,” Silas says as I stand from the bed. “I’ll be right here waiting.”

For him and I, time stood still within the tin walls of that space, because it was a mere blip in the eternal loop we’d already spent together.

Five spins is all it took to twist me from my happy, hopeful relationship into a tailspin of cosmic romance.

All the edges are blurred now around Silas. He’s that North Star shining luminescent in the foreground that my life has always been traveling toward, everything else is just filler.

It does read like a fantasy—my soulmate bound to my dreams until all of a sudden he’s not. The denial, the conflict, the fall out, the grand realization that we can’t stay away from each other any longer, and then what?

“How do you know I’m not that guy for you?” he snaps. “What is there in your head that isn’t right here? Call me fucking crazy, but I’m really not understanding this.”

Even if Silas and I don’t make it off this transport together, the sheer fact that I’m enamored enough with another man to risk everything, means that Logan and I wouldn’t have made it much longer anyway. I would just spend the rest of my life looking to fit Silas into all those missing pieces.

I sigh into his mouth as I crush my lips to his and lick through the seam of them in the same breath. Silas parts for me, willfully, readily, groaning around my tongue, sliding his own into my mouth to grapple with.

Silas kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before, recklessly, pressing his center into mine with every pass of his tongue, every breathless gape for just a little bit of air to keep us tethered.

The thing about myself and Silas, is that we already know each other. The same way the sea will always know the sand. Existing together in waves, rolling, tumbling, sometimes calm and quiet, others like a rip current. The two of us swirl inside one another perpetually, stir and then settle—maybe we could exist apart, but what is more beautiful than the way the surf and sand refuse to stop kissing each other?

This is a culmination. It’s every time Silas and I have ever been one in our dreams, now all at once. Two separate strings existing on the same frequency, bound to travel toward each other for all of time, finally meeting and buzzing voltaic like a live wire in the middle.

“Tell me to stop now if it be, little bird,” he whispers, holding my jaw between his fingers and forcing me to look at him. “I’m afraid you’ll soon find me incapable of the word.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I breathe.

“The things I’ve dreamt about doing to you, Eliza, would make the Gods blush,” he confesses breathlessly.

“It is high time we stop denying ourselves this pleasure, Eliza,” he says, fondling with the drawstring on my shorts and pulling it loose.

We’re finally naked for each other, as it has been in every gorgeous dream we’ve ever had. We both pause to appreciate that.

This is the person I’ve loved—always, intimately.

I touch his chest with my fingertips over his heart, feeling the frantic thump beneath the skin, and he does the same. We hold each other’s true, beating hearts in our palms for the first time. It’s no surpris...

“I will take my time and taste every inch of your body when I’m through, but for this I cannot be forced to wait another second.”

My body knows that this is him. Welcoming an old friend with open arms and tender care.

“Maker, I will never sin again,” he swears into the space, slowly filling me to a brim. “I will not tempt you to take this away from me.”

“Sing for me, little bird,” he says. “Show me where to find you.”

“Yes—Gods, yes. Please, just like that.”

“I’m gonna...” I stutter. “Silas—Sy, I’m...” “Look me in the eyes while I make you come, Eliza.” He holds the back of my head in his palm. “I don’t want you to forget this moment.”

“Where, Birdie? Where do you want it?” “Inside—I want you inside me.”

“How cruel it would be to wake up from this,”

“I told you I was going to take my time with you,” he murmurs, kissing the crease where my thigh meets the back of my knee. “I am many things of a moral dubiety, dream girl, but I am not a liar.”

Silas is a vision between my thighs,

“Part your legs, little bird. So I can watch you drip honey for me.”

He is the man I’ve always known, how he kisses me, how he worships me, how he makes me come.

Watching my face distort in satisfaction while he plays with me is like falling in love again. The pleasure isn’t all mine though, Silas gets off on it too.

He pairs the scissor of his fingers with his tongue, letting his own spit pool at my clit and then licking it off. It’s aggressive and insatiable, the way he eats me. Digging his dormant fingertips into the flesh of my thigh when I buck to keep me from stagnating the steady climb.

“Give it to me, Eliza,” he beckons my orgasm, curling his fingers inside of my heat. “I want it all over my face.”

“I’m gonna fuck you again,” he tells me against my lips.

I open my legs eagerly, nodding consent and holding his face in both my palms so I can kiss him whenever I please.

He holds still, savoring it again, the feeling of being inside me, his perfect fucking girl. His girl.

“You were made for me,” Silas praises, thrusting into me harder. “Maker—fuck keep going.” I sigh.

The way my walls choke his cock steals any rationale from his brain, and all he sees is white—bright and debilitating. He could be alive, he could be dead, all he deciphers is that he’s plunging, abysmal.

“It was never enough to have you in pieces,” he murmurs, turning his face into the crown of my hair. “And it never will be again.”

But all the while I look at my likeness in the glass and also think: I’ve never been so glowing. Like a fucking beam of light, my complexion is vibrant.

“Just marking what’s yours,” I tell him.

It’s like it gets better every fucking time.

“Silas...” I warn against his lips. “Me too.”

We’ve wrecked each other in the best ways.

I smell him all around me. In the sheets as I press my nose into the pillow to inhale the earthen, salty musk of him. On my skin, despite the sweat that is long dried. The aura of sex is stuck to me like a pollen. With every shift of my body it tickles my nose and reminds me of what happened here. Reminds me he’s still here. For the first time ever, a dream that doesn’t end.

For the first time ever, a dream that doesn’t end.

for the first time since then, I think: Maker, why did it take so long? This, is what I’ve been missing all this time—depriving

The universe though, it always knows.

“Each time you stir, I wake, Birdie,” he murmurs into my shoulder. “I’m afraid you might fly away.”

“Does it mean something?” He hums, tasting the salty sweetness of my skin on his tongue. “It means we don’t have to sleep to dream anymore, little bird.”