I won’t hesitate, and there won’t be any of that should I or shouldn’t I kiss her internal debate. I won’t get stuck in no man’s land, moving closer to your lips, doubting my decision to make the big move. By the time our lips finally meet, we will have texted novels to one another. You will have told me all about the hurt you felt after the worst kind of betrayal. You will have opened up about how life weighs, on you and makes you feel like crumbling into millions of little pieces. I will know that most of the time when you laugh you’re just trying to fight back the tears.
The reason I need to know all this before we meet is because I don’t want you to withdraw when I slowly move my hand to your face, touching the soft skin along your neck, feeling your pulse in my fingertips. I don’t want you to be scared when my hand combs through your hair, gently grabbing hold near your scalp. The reason I won’t get stuck in no man’s land, dying in the space between our lips, is I won’t be coming to you. I will be dragging you to me, slowly guiding your head closer. And just when you think I am about to do it, after all the hours of texting, after all the times I have made you wet with my random naughty texts, after all the times you have begged for me to touch you, I will move past the point where I should kiss you, and press my mouth to your ear. “You’re mine now,” will be whispered, sending chills along your nerves, through your spine, all the way down to your toes. “Did you hear me? You are fucking MINE.” Your body will be trembling, and you won’t be able to speak. But that’s OK. I don’t need your words anymore.
With my hand still firmly gripping you by your hair, I pull your head back. My lips press against your skin, sliding them along your temple, to your cheek and then to the corner of your mouth. Our eyes are locked and your pupils turn black, consuming all color in your irises. The first peck is followed by me whispering, “Mine,” and the second peck is followed by me whispering, “Still mine.” The third peck is followed by me whispering, “And you’ll always be mine.”
Finally, our lips meet, and you can’t take it anymore. You open wide, accepting me into your mouth, pressing your tongue against my tongue as my beard tickles your face. I tug on your hair, pulling you back off of me, separating us for only a moment. This gives you enough time to catch your breath, but it is obvious breathing is no longer important to you. It is obvious my kisses give you all the air you need. When I let go, you dive back in, wrapping one arm around me, the other moving your hand up to cradle my face. And even though neither one of us can speak, the word “mine” keeps resonating in your ear, echoing and reverberating, growing louder the more passionate we become. Mine. Mine. You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. You’re mine now and forever. You. Are. Fucking. Mine. It will be that kiss, our first kiss, you judge all past and future kisses by. Because when I kiss you, there are only two things we will know for sure. One, is you are mine and always will be. The other is… I am yours.