Originally posted June 7th, 2007.
Words: 197
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Taste like coffee,
on his lips from his tongue.
Stubbleburn still fiery on his lips, cheek and fragile skin below his jaw.
These are the places Rodney kissed.
His arms still feel the warmth of hands,
across his back the ghost of touch gliding up and down,
heat against his skin, sweat mingling as they grind closer.
These are the places Rodney touched and made him feel.
Nipples sore,
marks on his throat, just below the collar.
Above his thigh, in that sweet crease, bruises to be - still red and fresh.
These are the places Rodney marked and made his.
He burrows deep into his pillow and inhales, smelling Rodney;
sweat, aftershave, sex - holding it inside as long as he can.
Until he has to breath and let go.
Hoping that his bed will keep smelling like this, like Rodney, like home.
His voice makes him hard,
angry and demanding or babbling and nervous - doesn’t matter.
It sends shivers down his spine that he has to hide, except Rodney sees.
Now Rodney knows, so he does it again - just to make John break out in goosebumps that he can lick and bite.
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