On the night of our massacre at the Juvenile Correctional Facility, Haein and I made love.
I always thought that was the most cringy way to say 'fuck', but this was the first time I truly felt that it was the most apt description for a certain kind of sex.
We had plenty of wild romps over the cycles and our many encounters, but most of them were acts of wanton desires. We both abused and were abused by each other at some point, and I learned about my own sadistic and mildly masochistic inner demons as well (although I didn't quite like it when I got strangled to death, but that probably had more to do with feeling emotionally betrayed than anything).
The longing, searching, and probing back and forth of our tongue, sensuous tracing with the tip of fingers along the curves of naked bodies - mapping, exploring, and claiming every territory on each other's flesh, and the lustrous sound of wetness that rubbed and flowed - we were drunken with love and the hangover was dazzling.
