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Hold to Summer

There’s a chill in the air, these past few nights. It’s crisp and slightly bitter, and it smells like change, and tastes just a little like magic. It wakes me in the twilight darkness, and I turn instinctively to you, to where you lie, wide awake and basking in the pale light of a fat, full, heavy moon. The faint breeze comes again, making me shiver—not with cold, but with longing, and a little with fear. Because I see the way your eyes glow in the light of the pregnant moon, the way your nose lifts so slightly, and I know you smell it too.

Magic, and change.

Our days are still filled with the feisty heat of summer, with sweat and sunshine that turns your skin golden and your kisses salty. But the night… The night hints of the coming autumn, cool days leading into winter. They hint of a time when you will no longer be mine, of bitter days and lonely nights with only dreams to sustain me or keep me warm.

I shiver again under the wind’s caress, and finally you see me. The moon’s pale light reflects a hunger in your eyes, a wildness that tells me you too can feel it. The end of summer, the end of us. But also the magic, that all-too-brief season of change, where winter and summer dance together, and the world shifts from the heat of wild growth towards cold slumber, and nature dances in celebration of what was. The wild hunger in your eyes sings in my blood, too, a ferocious longing to hold tight to the little time we have left.

The cool tendrils of the nocturnal zephyr wrap around me as your soft lips find mine. The taste of magic fills my nostrils as slender fingers trail over my breast and down my torso. Bittersweet kisses only fuel my longing for you, my golden goddess, my summertime siren. And as your fingers dip into me, stoking my passion, drawing out my pleasure, every stroke of your hand infuses me with the longing your words can’t express, the regret our future holds, and the love we share.

I hold you tight, my fingers digging into your back as my climax overtakes me, but it’s bittersweet. The clever wind swirls around us, cooling our sweat even as we try to ignore it. Autumn is coming, and soon we’ll dance together under golden leaves, in celebration and in sorrow, singing magical preparation for the long night. And then you’ll be gone, like a whisper on the wind, leaving me to cold solitude, and dreams of warmer days, warm nights spent in your arms.

But for now, you are still here, and I can feel your need even as mine rises in me again. The wind may smell of magic and changing seasons, but while summer still reigns, I will hold you close. After all, I will need the memory of your arms, and the way you gasp as I kiss your neck, the way you moan as I suckle your golden breast and lick the salty sweat from your skin.

Winter can wait. I will hold to summer while I can.

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