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Every cell of his body, every neuron of his brain screams at him to do it. With every fiber of his being, he wants it. He yearns for it, so profoundly.
To feel his lips — or skin, Kurt isn't so fastidious — on his, to feel his warm breath after Herr Körner had a cigarette. Maybe, Kurt can reach out and touch his hair, if he would allow it. The desire eats him from the inside, keeps him awake at night; he falls into a reverie during the day. So splendid, to feel like this, to live like this.
snazzywafflez Mon 01 Sep 2025 01:24PM UTC
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