Fire and Ice

January 4, 2010
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His hair is a mess of curls, tangled on top of his head-dark and voluptuous. I suggested he use a pick once, he said it waspossible but he never would. I'll convince him someday. He has dark, smooth skin that taunts me, along with his defined jaw line. I run my fingers down it all the time because it's almost my favorite. But his eyes, although he says they are plainly brown and ugly, are not such a thing at all. They sparkle and melt like forbidden chocolate. His cheeks though, they get me in trouble. Rosy and bright, they show his nervousness. When I touch him, they bleed quietly, hot and silky. His heart beats a fast paced melody. He's beautiful, all in his own way. He's been kind since the day I met him. Even when I pushed like I always do, he didn't falter. He balances me well. I hot, and he, cold. Me as fire, him as ice. It's irresistible.

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