If you had an hour, what would you like to do with me :-)

An hour with you starts slow — fingertips tracing the curve of your shoulder, learning the geography of skin that's been waiting to be touched. No rush. The clock means nothing when something this warm is right in front of you.

You'd spend the middle stretch tangled and breathless, finding exactly which pressures make your breath catch, which angles make your back arch without warning. Conversation replaced by something more honest.

The last few minutes? Just stillness. Heartbeats slowing, the room carrying that specific heat that only builds between two people who used their time without wasting a single minute of it.