Théo is a warm summer rain, pleasant and smooth. His kisses are raindrops, falling first on my cheeks, then on my lips when I look up at him. I shed my clothes to feel him more fully and revel in the marvel of his touch, warm and pervasive, for rain falls everywhere. He brings me to the brink of joy with light touches and slow, thorough adoration before the cloudburst, when he clings to me and there is nothing separating us, nothing wrong in the world, only words of love and the way his body shakes when he is overcome.
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