You’re sitting at the desk typing away at your work as I lie on the bed watching you.

My eyes follow the movement of the backs of your hands and your fingers as you type – I want to trace each curving vein, over knuckle, sinew and bone. Through every shadowed crevice and feel you shudder as I slide mine over to fit the spaces in-between. To dip my tongue into those secret spots, and slowly slide my way up in adored violation. I wonder what you will say if you knew.

In my dreams, you can’t stop touching me and I love it. You shift in your seat (yes I noticed) your muscles, posture tensed so much I can feel the air shift as your breath speeds up to match mine. You turn around and hoist your laptop over to me. Not a word is spoken. Not even in your eyes. I see you, though. I feel you as you rest your weight over me, against me, around me. I’m frankly a bit scared of the way you engulf me, heavy darkness over a lone flickering flame and I’m the only one burning.

You’re lying across my back on the bed still focused on your work but I know the heat that grows between our bodies. It spills over from your shirt and the exposed skin of your arms, crushes my pounding heart with the fullness of your weight, as I lie beneath you. Silent. Biting my lip and stilling my breaths for fear that you’ll notice. I’d say you’re apathetic if not for the way you hold yourself, as if you’d break if you made any sudden movements and take me with you.

No, I think I’ll go first.

I turn my head to look at you from the side. A vein jumps in your profile. Your jaw’s hard, hinged shut so tight I fear your bones might snap. Your eyes remain glued on the screen, your fingers never stopping their frantic tune and dance. I imagine them tapping into me and close my eyes, burning each length, thickness and rhythm into the back of them like languid honey so thick and sticky it wets my tongue and roughens my voice into sandpaper. I wonder if you feel the light raggedness of my breaths tearing into your personal space. My body's humming a shrill song so loud it leaves me sweating with nails piercing skin to hold myself down from dragging you with me. I wonder if you hear it. I wonder if I should let it have it's way with you to kill the screams in mine.

Hey. You, yes you. The guy who sits across two desks from me.

In my dreams, you could never stop touching me and I loved it. Do you know I know you’ve got her and I don’t care for her name or face. But you’ll never know of course.

And I wish I knew the ending to my dream every time I wake up.

The burning feeling never leaves me.

***

I wrote this from a dream I had which drove me mad and is driving me mad still. Might add more if the inspiration hits. Kudos for reading!