and it came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to Father Time

What is en equal response to that?

Words do not often fail me. But we did not need them at that moment. I couldn't interrupt to talk, could hardly breathe to breathe, let alone speak. Sounds? Yes.

An urgency at first; tearing clothes, not caring as we walked out in the morning light, exposed and wanting the world to see the bare flesh.

Unusual surfaces, countertops and tiled floors, your perfect skin. A waterfall, wet skin on skin, soaked kisses, water running down my arms to where my hands could just not reach but did. Nails dug in, trying to hurt to plant our feet back on the ground.

Slow? Yes. Perfect, without a need to try make it more because it was an absolute. Transcendence of the physical, the climatic euphoria.

Arched back trying to bring me closer to you, you held me up as I tilted my head back, gasping. Biting, scratching until we bled what we felt. My hands clutching my hair and then yours as your tongue found hollows.

And then of course you had to find the last one and yes, we fitted perfectly. Like wires. Awkwards legs wrapped around you, and it only lasted a night but seemed an eternity. Breath on breath, biting lips, your fingers between my teeth, your palms pressed against my mouth and again, that hollow.The lips and hair and hollows and legs and cold feet that never once looked back were all yours. In the apex, levitating it seemed as you read me perfectly and yes, you could see my eyes in the darkness.

Your name was written all over my arms as we both fell back and still held onto one another, unbelieving of perfection, the apex of the rapture.

We never once used the word "sex".