This Is How We Say Goodbye

I don't want to let it fall, but a tear has appeared in the corner of my eye.

"It's going to be okay, baby," you say, and put your hand on my shoulder.

That touch is enough to make more tears and soon they are spilling out of my eyes and onto my cheeks. I turn away from you slightly, just enough so that you don't see them. I can't, however, stop the deep shaky breath that I have to take.

"Baby," you say, turning me to face you. "Baby, please don't cry."

I wonder what you think I should be feeling right now. Should I feel relieved? Angry? Calm?

You see this skepticism in my face and pinch your lips together as you nod; yes, you seem to be telling me, that was a fucking stupid thing to say. I do a little snort laugh to acknowledge your admission. I take another deep breath. It shakes a little less this time.

You take my face into your hands, and use your thumbs to wipe away the tears. This small kindness makes the tears threaten to well again, and you can see that. So you drop your hands quickly and take a step back.

I don't know how to describe the feeling in my chest and belly right now other than...empty. I feel empty. Time seems to have slowed down and I am aware of the ticking clock in the room. The fan turns on and I hear the clatter of the blinds as the air flowing through the vents touches them. I don't want to look at you any more. I'm not sure what to do with my hands.

"Can I hug you, baby?" you say. Oh, I want that. I want to be taken into your arms and held tightly. So that I can remember to breathe when my body senses your breathing. So that I can press my face into your shoulder where you can't see me.

I nod. You step forward again and wrap your arms around me. You smell earthy, like sandalwood and sage. I gave you this cologne. Your big hands rub my back in a steady rhythm and I can feel your heart beating. It grounds me, this hug. I raise my arms and hug you back. You feel like home. You always have.

You lift your head from where it is resting on my shoulder and look at me. It hurts to look at your eyes but it also feels like an imperative.

"Baby," you say, and I wonder when you will stop calling me that.

As though our bodies move from muscle memory, our faces draw closer together and our lips meet. Your kisses have been the best of my life. There was a boy many years ago who kissed me with the same kind of enthusiasm, but lacked your skill. He was all tongue and saliva, while your kisses are nuanced. Gentle to begin, building in depth and passion, and somehow so full of emotion that they feel like deep conversation.

You bring your hand to my cheek and my heart feels seared. As though your touch is an accelerant, the kiss becomes instantly deeper and more needy. Your breath is starting to speed up now. My eyes are shut tight. I want to run away in this kiss and refuse to come back. Your tongue finds mine and our bodies press together at their every meeting point. I notice your mouth is slightly minty and my mind leaves the kiss long enough to wonder when you last brushed your teeth. Did you know I was coming over? Did you plan this?

I'm back in the kiss in an instant, though, because your hands have started to move. The top button of my shirt is undone now; I think you did that with one hand, which is impressive enough, but I don't have a chance to think about that because your hand is pulling my shirt out of my pants and grazing my stomach. Your fingertips are rough, but familiar. I take a small step back to give you more access to my torso, and you take your other hand from my back to undo more buttons. And then you are both undoing my shirt and trying to pull it over my head, so I put a hand on your chest to stop you.

This is a moment in which I can choose. I can stay safely on the edge of this metaphorical tall building, or I can step out into the air and hope you catch me. I have no reason to believe that you will catch me even though you have every other time I've taken that step; in fact, I have every reason to think that, this time, you may watch me fall to the ground and crumple on impact. But there's something in your face that urges me to go forward into the air, to trust you one more time.

I step back from you and undo my buttons, one at a time. I am giving us both time to think. By the time I've undone the final button, though, the word that chimes in my head is "yes." Over and over, I think "yes."

To the question in your face, I say it aloud: "Yes."

Your hands are on me before I can form another thought. You are hungry for contact with me; you are touching me everywhere. You feel my ribs with your fingertips so intently it's as though you are counting them. You reach to the back of my bra and undo it, dropping it to the floor somewhere next to us, and kiss me. Your hands are still on my back, drawing me to you. My nipples brush the fabric of your shirt and that feels all wrong, so I step back from the kiss and lift your t-shirt over your head. I want your skin on me. I want there to be nothing between us.

I get close to you again and feel the coarse curls of your chest hair against me. I bring my hands up to your chest and pass them over your nipples; a shudder goes through you and you pull me closer, pinning my arms between us. I can only lean my mouth in to kiss your neck, so I find your favourite spot below your jaw and kiss you gently there. You must have shaved yesterday; the stubble is starting to come back in. I hear your breath halt for a second and feel your body tense. You release my arms and I put them around you again.

"Baby," you say again, but this time it sounds like a request. Your eyes are closed, your chin raised to let me lick and kiss your neck. I bite you at the crook of your neck and you moan.

I reach down and touch the front of your jeans, cupping your growing hardness, and you moan again. When I look up, you're looking at me with need in your eyes, a yearning, and you lean in to kiss me harder. Our mouths are open. Your tongue tangles with mine. My breath is coming faster now.

You break the kiss to undo my pants and reach to touch me over my panties. I twist my hips so that I am rubbing myself against your fingers. I want more. I want to feel good, to replace the emptiness inside with that warm rush of pleasure between my legs I know you can give me.

You pull me to the couch and sit, pulling me down over you. I start to move my hips over you, grinding into you, and it feels so good. You lean back against the cushions and close your eyes, making small noises of pleasure - not moans, exactly, but you feel good. I know these noises. I know how to make them louder, to make them change into cries of release. That power is in my hands.

I lean forward to press my breasts to your face. I want your tongue on me while I grind into you. You take my breast in your mouth and bring your hands to me, holding my breasts so you can suck on each nipple in turn. A spark lights in me, deep down, and I croon my desire.

My sounds make your sucking more urgent, and your noises turn to moans. You lift me up and start to undo your pants.

"Take those off," you say to me. "Take them off now."

I do. We are both naked and desperate for each other. I sit back in your lap and raise myself up so that all I have to do is sink down on your cock. You are panting.

"Baby," you say, and this is a plea.

I lower myself onto you and we sit there for a minute. Your arms are tight around my back and I am holding you close, my arms around your neck. Tears come to my eyes again, but I don't let you see them. I rub them away on you, nuzzling my face into your soft hair.

"Baby," you say, your voice breaking a little. At this sound, I build a small cage of ice around my heart so it doesn't fall to pieces.

I begin to move, using my body to stroke you, using you to fill me. I forget about everything else except this feeling. My eyes are closed tightly. Nothing matters now except this rhythmic motion of my hips.

You are moving under me, matching my rhythm, and it feels good. It feels right. You reach down and press your thumb to the right spot on my clit and rub, gently and slowly, and the pleasure intensifies. I will come. You know this. You know my body so well.

I keep moving and moving and soon I can feel the tightening inside, the tension in my stomach, the speed of my breath increasing and I know I am close. I can tell you are close too; your moans and grunts are constant and you are fucking up into me harder and harder.

We come together. It was always a goal and seldom did we reach it, but today of all days, we reach our release at the same time. I press myself into you and hold you so close. We breathe hard. Your arms move around me and grip my back so hard it's almost painful.

I thought maybe I would cry after my orgasm; that has happened sometimes during our most difficult times. But today I do not cry. I just sit here, breathing, holding you inside me. You are still hard.

"Baby," you say. And this time I don't know what you mean. I can't find the meaning in your tone. But you put your hands on my waist and start to move again, moving me up and down slowly and then with more need or desperation. We are wet with our cum and it feels good, better even than before. Your eyes are closed and your head is raised so I lean in and kiss your neck. This makes you fuck me even faster. I keep kissing your neck, and you say my name over and over. You are going to come again. You move faster and faster and I don't think I will finish, but you press me close into you, faster, and I can feel another climax begin. As I am crying out, you put your hands on my cheeks and bring my face close to yours.

"I love you," you say.

The ice cage protecting my heart shatters, and the waves of my orgasm crash onto the rocks of my pain. I can't hide from you anywhere. I don't try to wipe away my tears. I just let them fall onto your chest and mine.

"I will always love you," you say, holding my face in your hands. It's the first lie you have ever told me.