You found me in such a crowd; I like to think there was something of a similar blood within us, singing a language which only blood could hear.  You couldn’t have heard my voice from across the crowded room, you couldn’t have seen me eyeing the marks on your body and fantasizing about tracing the edges of them with my nails, or the tip of my tongue.  A line of black lettering snaked its way up your arm and underneath your shirt, and I wanted to follow it.

We found each other in another room, one with fewer people.  I wanted you.  I took every opportunity to make it clear.  And when you allowed me to touch you, to push you down and straddle your body and press my energy into your solar plexus, it was such a delicious possession in miniature that I fear I became a bit obsessed.

Later, when we escaped the crowds and I held you down on my bed, I savored every ragged breath and twitch of your muscles as you moved against me, sometimes languid, sometimes straining.  My fingers pressed into your wrists, pinned beautifully over  your head, and I savored the keen pleasure in the power I felt over your body and breath.  I wanted to take you apart with my mouth and put you back together again with my hands.  I wanted to make you gasp.  I wanted to taste you and get so close I could hear your blood flow, try to put its song into words to savor later.

At the end of an hour of drinking in your scent, of tasting you and touching you, of kneeling over your denim-clad hips and biting the edge of your jaw, you seized me and flipped me, suddenly.  Both of my wrists were pinned in one of your hands. My breath caught in my throat with surprise and need.  “You like it, too,” you smiled. And then you kissed me, and then you left, and I nearly came undone.

I feel asleep, burning and trembling in the vacant dark, and dreamed of trying to kiss you through the black wrought iron spikes of a gate. When you reached through them to lay a palm on my face, the spikes cut your hand, and your fingertips dripped blood, and I woke in the darkness with the faint strains of a song fading already from my memory.