#7, Sin City

The pavement is rough under my knees, scrapping them into a bloody pulp. But I don’t feel it. I only feel the rush.

I feel my heart pounding in my chest like a runaway train. Fingers knotted in my hair and pulling, it must be painful, but right now it’s making the blood roar in my ears.

It is rough and quick. Pounding. Pushing. Panting and growling like fucking dogs. Later we will lick our wounds clean. There is nothing pretty about tonight. I am consumed by pain and pleasure. Into the night we hide ourselves away, but not enough. Flashlights illuminate bare skin, steal our pleasure, replace it with a different rush. Run! Don’t get caught!

Laughing into the night our hearts sing.

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