Pushing out a breath, I lean against the wall and slide to the floor. I sit beside her for as long as it takes. Listening until her sobs fade and the shower turns on.
I quickly learned I needed someone who specifically enjoyed, or at the very least could take it, when I hit that point of blinding release. Every time, I lost all sense of the control I work so hard at maintaining.
I part my lips, but no words come out. I want to cry. Want to beg. Want to scream. But mostly, I want to hold him until I know he’s going to be okay. Then I want him to hold me until I’m okay, too.
There’s a difference between loving someone as they are whole, and wanting to see all of their pieces. I’ve understood this for a while now, and I don’t fault anyone for it.
