The next time I see my boyfriend, I’m going to make sure I brush my lips really slowly against the soft skin in the curve between his neck and his shoulder. I’m going to run my hands up the back of his t-shirt and relish the warmth of his body through the cotton. I’m going to tell him ‘I missed you’ and mean it more than I have since early August, when I very rudely disappeared for two whole weeks in the early days of our relationship. On the morning I returned from that trip, we went to the pub for a couple of hours before I took him home to my place, and when I stood up to get my round in, I ran my fingertips down the back of his head – recently-but-not too freshly-shaved, feather soft against my skin. He later whispered to me that the touch had made his cock jump. So fuck it, yeah: the next time I see my boyfriend, I’ll want to do that again too.

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