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The room is dark, lit overhead by another strip of neon pink It’s so easy to pretend in here, lost in light thatlook like make-believe, surrounded by sounds on the other side of the door I feel the beat of the h the floor and into my feet, and it’s only this that reminds me there are other people on this planet beyond our kisses, our frantic hands as we try to get closer, push clothes out of the way

My dress comes up, his shirt pulled from the waist of his pants so I can scratch asp as cool air finds s Hejust beneath the skiers between and over, everywhere but the place I want hiainst his hand, crying out at the way the tip of his fingers tease in and out ofback and forth overs I watch as he leans forward, looking up at h his lashes while he reaches out, pulls ue overso heavy I fear I ht actually pass out On instincthim to me and God it’s so dirty to see him like this, head down and washed in neon while he licks ainst , but every nerve in s over asp

He swears, two fingers sliding deep, his tonguein practiced , slow licks

"Oh God" I say, on the edge of so ainst hi my breath when I see his hand down the front of his pants, his ar in a blur of movement

"Come up here," I say, breathless "Please" I’ether

"God yes," he says, and stands, pushing his pants down his hips

His hair is a mess and color blooms across his cheekbones and down his neck I feel the head of his ck as he slides it over me and I’m so wet that with just the sasp, he tucks his head intobreaths "I need a second," he says, and holds ain, he reaches a hand over ainst theout slowly before pushing in again "So fking good"

He builds a rhyth against the counter as he fks s around his waist and he reaches up, holdshis thuers, on his h to kissacross my face He pulls his thumb back and paints a wet line acrossasp, wrappinghirowls

"I want it rougher"

"Make it dirty," he says, licking ain What is your aze drops to his "

His pupils dilate, reflecting the neon back tohard and slick into hly every tihs

So is perfect It’s locked, but if they walked inside they would hear the slapping of his skin on s on either side of Ansel’s hips, my dress pushed up my body while he fksback and gripping the faucet My fingers feel slick around the cool metal, my skin flushed and damp with sweat

I feel so full, stretched, with liainst ainst roar out as I co but the way my body tries to pull him in as I fall apart around hied and frantic, stilling against roan into my skin

THE EVENING BREEZE ruffles the back of my hair and the ends tickle arettes drifts frolance over my shoulder to where rows of motorcycles are parked at the curb "Where’s your bike?" I ask

"Home," he says simply "I dropped it off earlier so that I could ith you"

He doesn’t say this to earn a reaction, so he misses the way my eyes turn up to hih it feels like a constant companion anytime the subject of school and life ahead is broached But he’s shown me that he’s always aware of what happened and won’t ever push, unlike ot me a bike for ested I get back on the horse Ansel’s frankness is still soonize over everything I say--worrying whether I’ll be able to say it at all--Ansel never filters Words seem to tuht I wonder if he’s always been this unguarded, if he’s this ith everyone