Fingers in my mouth, his other hand resting at the back of my neck, those two things always get my attention. My mind quiets, my breathing slows and I can focus on just being. He’ll use that time to talk about things he wants to try with me. Rope, wrestling, positioning and posing. All of that, described in glorious detail. I sometimes catch myself humming and drooling a bit as he talks. My anxious brain can chill, if only for a bit, and I just take note of everything. The way his accent peaks out when he’s excited, the way his fingers bounce when he brings something new up, how our chests start to rise and fall in unison. It’s intimate and soft and true. Sometimes, he describes things that I don’t think I’d like, but that’s okay too. I’ll tell him so and he’ll gather information and move on or reformulate. That’s one of the best feelings. We can be vulnerable, and when it’s a no, that no is never harsh.
