I wanted to drag my tongue over the outline of stars and through the constellations, along the Milky Way imprinted into the thick divot of muscle over his left hip and splayed across his body; it had been so perfectly captured that for a second I thought I’d been looking at the night sky. And I wanted to look. I’d wanted to follow it under the pajama pants, especially as I very clearly remembered what would be there waiting for me.
