I want you to find me so beautiful that your breath catches in your throat when you look at me.
That all your carefully laid plans fly out of your head at the sight of me and you feel you must have me, there and then.
That all thoughts of making me wait are superseded by your throbbing need.
That your belt, with which you had intended to mark me, becomes a mere impediment to the fulfilment of your desire.
That my breath, tremulous and halting, is the only sound in the room.
That when you see my eyes, lightened with arousal, pupils large with lust and need, you only want to drown and drown again in me, surging and pulling in our aegir.
That our moment of connection, which has in it all that we have been and all that we will be, swells and grows until we no longer are two people but one luminous being crying out in our simultaneous ecstasy.
That our lying together, you with your arm around my shoulder, me with my head on your chest is where we breathe ourselves into our future.
I want you.