Trespassing Lips

“If I were to be your lover,” she said, gazing up from her resting spot of his criss-crossed legs, “I’d one day become petulant and a bother.”

“Never,” he said. “You’re far too interesting.”

“And you are far too loyal to ever think otherwise.”

He threw his head back and laughed. Shushing her, he combed a lock of hair behind her ear.

“And what if I should tire of you?” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Then you will leave me a sad, lonely man, relegated to a life of masturbatory fantasies about your soft, white skin draping the curve of your hips,” he said, shaking her shoulders in mock frustration before gently cupping her breast and kissing her upside down lips. “My loyalty knows no bounds when it comes to you.”

“It knows no bounds at all,” she quickly retorted. “I, at least, am forthright about my nature and the fact that I will leave you one day before either of us become embroiled in the mundane.”

“Darling,” he sighed, “I don’t fear you leaving me because there is no such thing as mundane with you.”

She sat bolt upright and spun around to clasp his face in her hands. “Then leave her.” Her eyes spoke as fiercely as her lips. “Not for us, but for you. And for me.” She held his gaze, then dropped her eyes. “I cannot bear to see you in such agony. Leave her.”

“I cannot.” His response was as flat and unemotional as it was every time.

She dropped her head into his lap as the welling tears began to fall. “Indeed. You are far too loyal and far too cruel. But not cruel enough.”

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