It’s a dream.

You feel it spattered on you.

Warm. Messy. Across your face.

You’re still pressing your brow against my cock.

And it feels like relief. It feels like a mark. Like a cool glass of water to a parched throat. Like the taste of an icecream you’ve spent an evening imagining.

But it hasn’t just been an evening.

It’s been every night in vivid dreams. Dreams that make you feel whole – until you wake. 

In absent moments you notice your lips. The smoothness of your skin, your face. The taste of air in your mouth. 

And it’s missing.

You know what it feels like. You know you need it.

You know where to go.

And you know what you must agree to.