We’ve only been dating for two months now, me and Gabriel—

sharp gasps, quick shudders

But we’ve known each other all of our lives, because both of our moms’ were friends since they were our age—

friction in the most private of places

So I guess it doesn’t really matter what we do anymore, regardless of how plutonic or sexual it might be—

bodies rock, bed squeak, minds cloud

He knows everything about me, every one of my secrets. Of my pains, my hardships, my failures. Of my joys, my pleasures, my successes—

moaning, groaning, mewling, begging

Everything. He knows everything about me. Some people might be freighted about that, because someone knowing everything would mean that they would see the monstrosity that only you know exists—

listening, fastening, pounding; pleasure

I know everything about him too. There are some things that he tries to keep it a secret. It doesn’t matter, I always find out sometime. Things he thinks would bother me—

moans getting louder, pressure building deep down

Things like his darker studies and his more dangerous experiments—

lips crushing, moans frequent, thrusts erratic

But it doesn’t matter, because I still love him after I find out. Even if I’m a bit frustrated in his sometimes lacking trust—

hands grope, fingers claw, muscles tense

But its just one of those things that make him Gabriel. He’s weird that way, and I wouldn’t want to change it—

bodies collapse, breathing calms, sticky feeling gets uncomfortable

Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like if he was just another normal person, like anyone else in the world—

laying quiet, watching closed eyes, getting sleepy

But then I only want to slap myself, because without his secrets, he wouldn’t be Gabriel—

once hazard green eyes shoot open

And if he wasn’t Gabriel—

dark green eyes stare at me, maniacal grin stares into confused eyes

I wouldn’t love him.