Three in the morning, and the bed moves,

just slightly, just enough.

I open my eyes, lie still, don't breathe,

listening to yours change.

You stop.

That pause, that stillness, and I keep my breathing slow, even, and wait.

You start again, slower, more careful,

and I lie here while you touch yourself six inches away.

I can hear you.

I hear it.

Your fingers finding it.

I'm hard already.

Your breathing catches, quickens, sounds like you're swallowing

"oh"

barely there, and I feel it low, where you do,

I can hear how wet you are,

and I reach down, find myself, I stop. Just hold myself.

Your hips shift, the covers move.

"god,"

"oh god,"

And I grip and wait and do not move, jaw tight, breath held, the whole bed moving with you,

until

your whole body shudders,

and I lie there throbbing, hard, saying nothing,

both of us still, both of us awake.