It’s a bit observant of him, but he knows me so well. He says it’s because he knows himself that he knows me, he says so much with so little. A whisper between us hanging like a joining thread. I roll my fingers into the palm of his hand, sliding and interlocking our grip.

The countdown to the showing has already started, the lights have dimmed, our seats conjoined so his arm wraps around me. I snuggle up close. We walked up the beach and caught the showing, the weather too nice.

He asks me if I still feel him, and I nod. He looks down at me and I smile. He smiles brightly at me, and I know he is remembering. I smirk, not arrogantly but shyly. His hand trails up my thigh. and I slide my thighs over his lap.

We made love before we left the house, he fucked me against the shower wall, soap and hot water pelting my skin as he marked me. He likes to tease the fold of my cunt afterwards, he likes to remind me what’s his. On days like this, where my heart is need of that little bit of extra from him I allow it. One hand wrapped around my shoulders, the other teasing my opening under my skirt. The trail of my lips against his neck, rather than shoveling popcorn in my mouth, and in this moment I feel complete.

I catch his glance, staring in his eyes, as always my gut sinks and turns into butterflies, and the shy smile turns into a needy gasping breath… and there in the pools of deep blue, I am home.