all things must pass » the beatles, queen and the backstreet boys

31- Brian May

My fingers found their own way in the mass of ebony curls on my stomach, tickling the skin there ever so softly. The sensation was so intimate in an ever-so-familiar way, a way that my body had memorized.

His head shifted a little, lidded eyes staring at me with the intensity of a thousand suns. Almost too intense, to the extent that my skin burned---but that didn't have to do with the look; rather the man that was giving it.

For the most part, he was silent at times like these. Generally even, he was a man of few words. But in certain moments of intimacy, his tongue seemed to fold into itself, letting his sinuous hands, intense eyes, and lithe body to do the wordless talking.

It was just another Saturday night. Roger and Dominique were out for a much needed night of relaxed wining and dining, and we'd have opted for doing the same, had we not missed the simple, almost laughable concept of lying in each other's arms with little to worry about.

Still pinned down by his stare, I paused my ministrations as his lips parted, breathing softly against the exposed skin of my stomach. Achingly slow, he brushed his open mouth against the skin, lightly blowing against it as he left a fluttering kiss that had my stomach twisting itself into a knot.

The silence that ensued once more was still, as though unspoken words lingered like fog through the air between us after the mild skin-on-skin contact we'd just had. And perhaps they did, but we didn't pursue these words. Let them drift aimlessly. Only the words that required utterance were spoken.

Hazel eyes swam with specks of green that seemed like sparks of a bonfire, holding the exact same warmth, now that I've come to think of it. Brian's honeyed stare exuded pure passion and boundless safety; like I could bind myself to him, a lifeline, and find salvation in him.

Perhaps, in a way, that truly was how I perceived him. An anchor amidst all the chaos that surrounded us from all sides, pressing in on us at times when we questioned our sanity.

My heart nearly stilled as his deft, talented fingers sprawled across my arm lazily, pinning me down underneath him---though that prospect seemed silly; I wouldn't have wanted to get up unless absolutely necessary.

My svelte boyfriend slipped his limbs in every crevice of mine, entwining us so it was impossible for us to hastily scramble up for whatever reason. In a way, that made it feel even more intimate; the way we couldn't tell where one body ended and the other began.

All I knew for sure, was that a body that loved me cradled me into happiness, and another one had set a personal mission to convey the very same message to him. Where one started and the other came to an end didn't matter, for our long, almost painfully loving nights proved that w were born to be one entity---two puzzle pieces that fit into each other and each other only.

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