Sly grins, to crease the mouth that knows a helluva lot more then it's matching eyes lead you to believe. In corners on still dark mornings, slipping knowledge of what their mind house's and admits with relative admiration that all is well in encryptic words of affection. A lot more then kissing, a lot of clothes on. A fair bit of wishing. Heavy breathing, constant urge, seizing seconds. Known no's. No no's. All known so well, nothing conventional, definitely a pair. Mix matched socks with just the right amount of heat. Sharing antidotes and offering special quotes, late night wake up attention. The perfect kind of play. Up all night, like there's no where to be. "You're the still point, in a turning world." Highly comparable to nothing experienced before, a tug-o-war worth getting naked for. Playing for keeps, for keeps, because I'd hate to see you go.