We sit in your car in the dark, watching the sea, content in the silence of each other, kissing so softly, though I can feel you getting hard. You move my hand up your thigh to touch you. I do, but I think you know that it’s not going to play out like that. I am away now, soothed by the warmth of your lips as you run your hands against my neck. They are firm and calloused from your job. They are reassuring. The sort of hands that could hold back a flood. There is a tenderness to the moment.
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