His lips are bright and his breath is warm.
Warmth isn’t something you’re used to, it almost feels wrong.
Wrong is not being with him, not touching his skin.
Skin and blood and teeth, his words burn like acid when he’s angry.
Angry is something you can never be with him, not for long.
Long and hard and tiresome when he doesn’t want to see.
See all the little scars and scratches, you could never let him see yours but you’re so grateful to be trusted with his.
His lips are bright and his breath is warm and he’s all you’ve ever wanted and nothing you deserve