You're in a bedroom you've never been in before, in a state you've never lived in. Your arms are wrapped around someone you hardly care for. Their arms are wrapped around you and there's a small, stupid, scared part of your brain that thinks they might actually like you. You block that thought out of your head because it makes the blood rush away from the one part of your body where it needs to be.
You start moving your hands the way you do when your face is pressed against another person's face. They become your eyes and you feel, you see every curve and crater in the other person's body and they are both beautiful to you.
You feel their heat on your palm as you slowly figure out the puzzle that are button-fly jeans. Your heartbeat starts to race and you feel their pulse through the clothing they still have on. You are no longer talking to each other because, well, who wants to talk right now?
The way the sound of your breaths echo and creak and crash against the walls then the ceiling then back down to your eardrums are enough to let you know and enough for them to know how you're feeling and what you want and need and want and want and want.
This is all you want right now. Right. Now. You are not thinking about the implication or if you'll be going to breakfast the next morning or if they'll want to call you in a couple days to hang out. You're not thinking about who they really are or what they are like outside of a dark, hot, sweaty room. No.
You're only thinking about how you've been looking for a collarbone to sink your teeth into.
And you finally found one. And you finally get to have that release you haven't had in what feels like an eternity.