Tessa ReneeWords matter, sure. But your breath, it’s soft, steady, ghosting against my skin and speaks louder than any sentence. It tells me I’m safe. It tells me I’m wanted. It tells me you’re here, right now, and I don’t need to reach for anything else.
There’s a rhythm to it. A closeness. The kind of intimacy that makes me forget the world exists beyond this bed. When your breath brushes my neck, I swear my whole body exhales in relief. It’s not passion. It’s not chaos. It’s quiet devotion written in air.
And maybe that’s why I crave it so much. Because when words run out, when everything else fades, your breath still says everything I need to hear.
Final Word: Some languages can only be spoken skin to skin.
Disclaimer: This is intimacy translated into words, not a manual. Interpret at your own risk.
Tessa Renee
