#Summons

This is a slightly longer piece of twitterfiction. Still the briefest of flashes. –M

“Come here.”

It should never have worked. I know that. It’s a stupid, arrogant line to meet someone with, and I’m not stupid or arrogant (most of the time). But that first time I saw you, it was all I could get out of my mouth – the only synapses that fired in my brain.
And you came, and we began.

It’s funny, too. After that first evening, that first night, I didn’t sound like that, use words or tone like that, for weeks. Not until we’d taken our measure, taken the time to determine if there was more than that first searing, volatile chemistry between us. And there was, and we continued.

It might have been a surprise when you came in to our room and saw me lying naked and hard on the bed, but it probably wasn’t. You know what you do to me, what happens when I think about you.

“Come here.”

Now, I save those words, that tone. They’re ritual. Magic. I see it make your eyes darken and flash, your expression change from ‘coming home’, past neutral, to something that makes my cock twitch. You let the door fall closed behind you and step toward me, kicking off shoes, unbuttoning blouse and skirt.

“Come here and fuck me.”

And you do. And you do.