Obsidian

I never realised the potential of lust until I met him. I thought it was something that just ignited a fire and doused it after some time. I never thought it would turn into something that burnt me inside out, leaving me gasping for breath. He could set me on fire with a touch, sometimes with a look. I knew I'd fall hard the moment his lips touched mine, but it didn't matter. His bite marks on my shoulder became something I yearned for. His eyes are dreamy, half asleep, opaque. He was and still is, unreadable, and that's what drives me crazy about him. I'll never know what he is thinking until he is actually doing it. I've never been flustered or scared around anyone, yet completely at peace. I never thought anyone other than Tom Hiddleston would fit "He's so tall and handsome as hell; He's so bad, but he does it so well" until I met him. He was someone I've always wanted, but never let myself think I am good enough for. I still don't know what he was thinking even when he was leaving marks on my neck and lips and shoulders. I'll be at peace or I'll drive myself crazier if I got to know what's going on inside that beautiful lazy head of his. But he is like a dark obsidian stone, shining and reflecting the most beautiful shades of light, yet opaque as the ocean at midnight.