And He Tells Me He Loves Me

DESIRE:

"True passion expands the soul, enraptures the heart, and enchants the mind, with a feverish bliss."

~ Neil Martinique ~

LOVE:

“O love, O fire! once he drew
With one long kiss my whole soul through
My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.”

~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson ~

I arrive at the airport all grungy from a 14-hour flight, dressed for comfort, hair tousled, makeup (if any is still clinging to my tired face) probably where it shouldn't be. I run into his arms and wrap mine around him, finally looking again into those eyes I love. Our hearts are beating madly, pounding in our ears. I lean my head on his chest and reach up to sniff his neck, breathing in that scent of his. That familiar, comforting and yet so sensually arousing scent of his. Then he holds my face between his hands and, cradling my head, he leans in to kiss me so longingly, so perfectly. And he tells me he loves me.

We sit in the car driving somewhere, anywhere, we need no specific destination, just enjoying the experience of being with each other in such close proximity for long periods of time. Talking, laughing, hands reaching out to touch each other. I say his name and love the way it feels on my tongue. He says my name and it's music to my ears. We can never resist that intimacy, that need to physically connect in some, in any, way whenever we're close enough. The touch of his hand, the way he touches mine, makes my heart tremble. And the way we can't help smiling, we're always smiling, so much that our faces hurt after a while. And he tells me he loves me.

We always choose a booth in a restaurant, oft times confusing the wait staff as we both squeeze into one side of it, making sure my left arm is next to his right arm, so that we can touch and caress while we eat, me being right-handed and him being left-handed. We chat with the waitress as she takes our order and it's as though we speak as one, a seamless and knowing flow of our two voices. It's not unusual for us to choose the same things from the menu, without even influencing each other through discussion. Our fingers are intertwined the whole time. I used to be uncomfortable eating in front of people, a throwback to my eating disorder, but with this man, there is nothing at all which brings discomfort to me of any kind, or at any time. I'm ravenous for absolutely everything, food and otherwise, when I'm with him. And he tells me he loves me.

I sit on the sofa and he comes to sit next to me, holding a bottle of lotion. He leans down to pull my feet off the floor and onto his lap. Slowly and lovingly, he massages the lotion into the rough hard soles of my feet. Taking his time to go between each toe, rubbing each one as I watch him so totally absorbed in this loving task. His strong masculine hands kneading my feet so gently, making them so soft. Ripples of pleasure running up my legs and encompassing my entire body until my scalp tingles with delight. I see the joy this brings him, he actually loves to look after me. No-one has ever done this for me before. And he tells me he loves me.

In the deep of the night I wake and watch him sleeping, the glow of the light we always leave on, illuminating him enough for me to see the gentle peace in his features. I could gaze upon his face forever. My wish is that I am allowed to do just that. My fingers hesitate to touch him lest I wake him from his slumber, but they move a millimeter above his face, so close that I can feel his heat on them. I wait patiently for him to rouse from his sleep, for him to look over at me, to see the smile on my lips that is there always, when I look upon his handsome face. And he tells me he loves me.

He stretches out next to me on the bed, caressing the softest, palest areas of my skin. Areas the sun has never seen, areas no man has cared to regard before. Areas that before this man, hadn't been touched. Areas I didn't want to be touched. His fingertips whisper so smoothly over my warm flesh. He touches my breasts which are past their prime, he caresses my belly where it sags. He's blind to the stretchmarks that tell their own stories. His fingers glide over the bumps of the cellulite on my thighs, as he whispers in my ear how much he adores my body. I hear his breath catch from the desire he is expressing to me through his touch. And he tells me he loves me.

I am underneath him, his weight pinning me down. My head flat on the bed after he clears the pillows out of the way. He likes me flat like this. My legs wrapped around his thighs, my feet resting on and caressing his calves. His beautiful eyes staring deeply into mine, my eyes staring into the deep beauty of his soul. He fills me, totally fills me, touching me where no-one has before, so deep inside the cavern of my need for him. We touch each other's face and smile. Our lips meet and we kiss as he fills me. Not moving inside me, just filling me. Completing me. We pull from the kiss, needing to look at each other again. And he tells me he loves me.

Somehow, through fate's kind hand, we met. And we are so blessed. I long to share eternity with this wonderful man. Time and distance have no meaning in the matters of the heart, we live in our now, in our present. I tell him that I love him all the time, as often as he tells me that he loves me. I'll never get tired of saying those words to him, of expressing in every way I can, the emotions behind those little words. I'll never get tired of hearing them whispered, or spoken, or even shouted in exasperation at times, to me. The inflection, the pitch, the tone, the cadence of his voice make me melt. And with this post, as with so many others, I tell him I love him.

Love is in the passion of the soul, in the strength of the spirit. Our love is expressed quietly and without fanfare. It's in the beating of our heart as it pulsates life through our very veins, it's in the charges passing from one synapse to the other, it's in the way every single cell in our body is energized.

But today, there's no whispering from me, no sotto voce. Today, I want to shout it from the rooftops. I want to really put it out there, right here, in bright, flashing lights.

my darling man, my treasure, my delight, my angel.