[ entry rain.exe ]

the rain came fast,
all teeth and chill.
soaking cotton,
clinging skin,
and somehow —
you looked at me like that.
like you were daring me
to ruin you
right there on the wet grass.
sixty degrees,
and we’re stripping anyway,
shivering,
but already burning.
You laugh —
a short, shocked sound
as your back hits mud
and I press into you,
hands fumbling with wet limbs,
mouths crashing,
teeth grazing,
the taste of sky on your lips
and something hotter between your thighs.
It’s messy,
slippery,
a little bit stupid.
I can’t keep a grip,
you can’t stop giggling,
and somehow it’s perfect —
the way your breath fogs in the cold
but your moans come out molten.
The storm doesn’t scare us.
The cold doesn’t stop us.
We are heat in the middle of a downpour,
a gasp threaded with thunder,
and every thrust
feels like defying nature
and victory.