The hand pinning, hair tugging, lip biting, clothes pulling, heavy breathing type of making out.
(Source: arixsafari, via justalittlefrazzled)
and kiss me. I miss that.
I would write of something else, but nothing else compels me to write the way you do. I cannot describe the morning and the sunrises without describing the way the light runs its rays across your face. And how the still of the air fluctuates when the pace of your breathing alternates. The moment you inhale deeply filling the cavity of your ribs and proceed to pull me closer. I would write of something else, but then it would just be something else and not anything special at all. And the mornings would just be another morning.