Three words

02Apr10

The words. The weight of them is heavy on my tongue. The tip tingles and my lips twitch from the force of them, rising up my throat from my swelling heart, where they want to pour from.

But I bite them back.

They try to escape with every breath, every heartbeat, every broken kiss, every locked glance. But I bite them back.

Each caress, each laboured gasp, each sweet whispered obscenity, each thrust… the words threaten to flow. But I bite them back.

They’re the knot in my throat, the tears that prick my eyes, that look he’s been trying to decipher as we lie entwined and spent.

I’m biting them back not out of insecurity or fear of his reaction; but fear of myself. Scared in equal measure of being wrong, and being right.

And he knows. With that uncanny knack he has of reading my smallest facial expressions, the way that he can tell what I’m thinking before I’ve thought it… he knows.

He almost forced it out of me today. Lying over me, he caught a look I didn’t know I was wearing. Amidst the sweat and the sex, as I writhed beneath him – he saw the words writhing on my tongue.

Pinning me down, he demanded them from me. Three times… or was it four? “Say it”, he hissed, as I shook my head forcefully and prayed for reprise. It came more readily than expected – my look of contentment turned to fear, it seems.

Some day soon, I won’t be allowed to bite back.

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