This isn’t fucking. This isn’t strangers who don’t know a thing about each other. It’s two people who know each other like the back of their hands. Tender and quiet, a shift from normal. Patient and slow, neither wanting to rush to be the first to finish. It’s indulgent and soul-crushing. It’s love, and when he cradles my cheek against his palm, the softest look of adoration in his eyes, I know I’ll never be the same.
