Crash

*Obligatory graphic content warning*

"Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield upon which your reason and judgement wage war against your passion." -Khalil Gibran

The instant you begin to slide the car off the side of the highway I'm aware of your intent. I feel myself smile at you a bit sheepishly, against my will. As you gaze steadily into my eyes, revealing nothing, I feel my eyes close as my teeth begin to nervously nibble my lower lip.

The road stretches out in front of us, long and straight, peppered with towering trees. A cool summer breeze rustles the leaves that dangle overhead your now parked car. I glance again in your direction and you nod as you release your seatbelt.

I am paralyzed in the moment, curious as to whether you will proceed and allow your passion to uncharacteristically overwhelm your logic. I'm conflicted - this is a side of you I haven't seen and my own logic threatens to impede your plan. Instinctively, however, I'm delighted by your spontaneity, aroused by your neediness.

I glance behind us at the road as dark and as straight as the path that lay ahead of us. You remove the key from the ignition, the radio quiets, the engine hum desists. The silence is magnificient. I can hear the leaves rustle above me like familiar windchimes, a small animal darts through the foliage. I smell the dampness of the grass, wondering if you can sense my own dampness as acutely.

The sound of your door closing as you exit is deafening in the silence, immediately shaking me out of my nature-trance. I watch your body as you slowly walk in front of the car, your hand touching the hood for balance as you glance towards me. I realize at that moment that I know every centimeter of your body better than I know my own.

The mole on the side of your right ear reminds me of the sun because of it's satellite freckles. The front tooth that lays ever so slightly over its neighbor entrances me every time I see you smile. The way your biceps dip so noticeably in at your elbow, the thick and jagged scar from a childhood sports injury and the deep indentation just above your buttocks are all parts of you that I've appropriated for my own use - to define our familiarity, to make your body a possession.

As you approach the passenger side, I stare deeply into your eyes and wait for the twinkle to appear. As your hand reaches for the handle I glimpse it, but only for a second. You swing the door open and reach towards me, palms outstretched, waiting for my touch.

I place my hands in yours and feel their strength as they wrap around mine, effortlessly lifting me out of the car. I lift my face towards yours and feel your lips brush mine softly, teasing me - exactly the way I knew you'd kiss me, exactly the way you know I love to be kissed.

My car door closes, seemingly of its own volition, as your arms snake around my waist, mine around your neck. I stroke you there, allowing my fingernails to gently scratch the tender skin. You lower your face to mine again and kiss me deeply. I stare into your face as you do. With your eyes closed, I feel you fade into me. I press my body hard against yours to bring you back to the moment, to keep you from drifting into that deep, amber-colored place we both long for.
Without warning, you spin me around and press my body against the hood of the car. I feel the weight of your chest against my back as you stretch my arms against the cool metal, holding my hands in place. You bury your face into my neck and sigh deeply, inhaling my scent, the moment perplexingly finite and infinite.

"Your hair is so soft." I say. Instantly regretting that those words were the ones that broke the perfect silence, feeling like a silly teenager.

"I'm not." You whisper into my ear, removing my hand from the car, leaning more firmly against my back and placing my hand over you. I squeeze gently, then turn my head to kiss you.
Your tongue fills my mouth and I accept it gratefully, happy to listen once again to the silence, happy to be silenced by you. I suck your tongue deeply into my mouth, forcing you to recall the previous evening.

I feel your hand begin to ascend my thigh, it's largeness covering most of my leg, pressed firmly against my skin. As you lift my dress, the sudden exposure to the cool night air startles me - a strong contrast to the heat emanating from within.

I lean my head back against your chest and feel you wrap your arms around me. As your hand begins to snake down my stomach I shiver and lean harder against you, partially for balance and partially for the comfort that your body provides. Your breath is hot in my ear as you whisper the words that I love to hear, the little phrase that brings me to my knees each time the words escape your lips.

I close my eyes and feel the moment in its entirety - the cool air, the sound of the bushes blowing gently, the chirp of crickets, the dew from the grass creeping up our legs, the solidity of your form, the scent of your skin. It's marvelous and beautiful. As your fingers slide easily into me, every sensation is combined and condensed and I feel nothing except your touch, hear nothing except your breathing.

I don't hear you release yourself from the confines of your clothing, nor do I feel you release me from mine. Almost as if by some magical force, I feel you slide effortlessly into my pool. I lean back and rock slowly onto you as you fill me - the long-lost key to a hidden treasure.
It isn't long before you feel the ravenous force of my passion for you - a torrential outpouring from deep within my soul boils over as my body falls against you.

As my storm begins to subside, you gently lift me onto the hood of the car. Your body presses firmly against mine, firmly inside mine. I wrap my legs tightly around your body, pulling you in as closely as possible, wishing to consume you.

I feel your energy fill my body, first as you kiss me ravenously then again moments later as your warmth, your soul is transferred to mine. Your weight falls heavily against me as your arms wrap snugly around me.

A feather falls from the sky as a bird twitches in a tree above us. A tear stings my eye before suddenly tracing its way down my face. Your hand wraps around my cheek, your thumb drying the escaping drop. The bird sings sharply - it's swan song perfectly devestating, a harbinger of our own.