Poly people are busy, yo. Heh. Like you didn’t know that. Sometimes things become a colorful mess on Google Calendar, and then what do you do?
Poly people are even busier when they are in grad school and when they are working nearly 60 hours a week and when they are doing renovations. I’m sure that holds for “when they are parents” and “When they are care taking for loved ones” and a host of other things.
My poor Traveler has had to work like a mad man. He was out of town. Then on our date when he got home he fell asleep at 830pm. We went to dinner and came home and he passed out.. just like that. A quickie before renovations and the big game. The SuperBowl we all got to spend together, a few hours with Quinky Girl for him, and he had to work till 1030 and we snuggled and slept. Then our next date he had to take off work for something Quinky needed for the renovation and he had to work all night to make it up. Then again, he got off early for reno and had to work all night on our date. Basically I’ve fed him, burped him, and put him to bed on every date we’ve had for two weeks. (Okay.. minus the burping). Then finally a Saturday night, but we spent it at Quinky Girl’s boyfriend’s party and again.. asleep. Thank god we love getting all wrapped up and snuggly in our sleep!
Let’s not even mention that two of those working and sleep dates I was working on deadlines too or that the working dates generally started about 2 hours before bed. Poor Traveler was EXHAUSTED and just fraught. I tried to soothe him and make it as nice as possible. What can you do? Sometimes life is crazy. The only time we were alone and he wasn’t working we spent doing demo, and that was an amazing godsend. It felt good to connect with him.
So finally we had a date where he wasn’t going to be working. Dammit. He had to take off AGAIN for a couple of hours and again he had to work to make it up. I made a simple dinner and petted him while he worked. It felt good to touch him and I like taking care of him. And holy of holies… he got those emails sent and finished the stuff he’d had to get done.
And we kissed and kissed and kissed. He wrapped me up like he does and ran his fingers through my hair and said my name. We kissed and laughed and just looked at each other. Oh mercy. So what I needed. My sweet Traveler. He asked what I wanted to do and I bit my lip. I needed him. I’d thought about greeting him in lingerie on this our hoped for not-working and not having to be at any social engagement date. I was grateful I hadn’t been in the buff. It’d have been awkward to sit in my fuck-me pumps while he finished work.
But I couldn’t wait any more. We’d had our times to connect.. over renovations, in stolen moments at the party, petting him while he worked or in tired kisses or dirty sore hugs, and tangled snuggles… but we were alone and awake now. He nipped me with his teeth. He looked at me like that. I pressed against him. I needed to connect with him more. I needed nothing between us. I was grateful I’d set up candles earlier because they were perfect. There was music but I didn’t hear it anymore. We ran to bed. He didn’t even see the sexy underwear before it hit the floor. Was he clothed before? We ripped the sheets back. I wanted to savor him. I forced myself to slow down for like a second. He shook a little.
What the fuck were we waiting for!? Devour. Nip. Wrangle. Oh god. It was the hottest sex we’ve had in a dog’s age. It’d been just over a week! A fucking week! You’d have thought it had been a year with my ache. I needed him. I trembled in my need. I want you I need you… oh you! Then take me! Take me! Please… fuck… take me!
And the aching aching need, wanting to taste him and ride him and be ridden by him all at the same time, wanting more of him and more of me to be taken. And his eyes.. his deep deep eyes. I swam in there, drowned in there and loved the drowning and the dying too. I could not and did not want to ever stop. The energy! God. The heat. Breathing too hard to kiss and kissing anyway.. so much kissing.. and the gaze. We were the entire world where the movie slows down to see each drop of water in the air…. the flood…. the flood… oh god the flood and every drop of him and me… sweat and salt and water and flood and burst and sounding like we hurt, sounding like the little death the french describe so well.
We collapsed and dozed with him as first still inside me and later with us both in our swell. It amazes me that that happens, that we have this other death together in such perfect peace as we cool. It’s like giving every single thing you’ve got to race to some final leap into the abyss.
I love the feeling afterward, so warm, all my nerve endings happy, cleaning up with the dopey smiles on our faces, little kisses and little laughs of camaraderie for what we have survived. I consider it a personal victory every single time he chuckles and says, “wow”.
Sometimes you just need la petit mort.