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For the Love of Starbuck

Chapter 1: Our Wind

by FatiferousPoet



Gently caressing my cheek

Always available even when not present

Void of air against hull, thanks to thrust and precision, atmospheric forces pretend to be that flow

We are one when we are together, my vessel agrees as fingers tilt her moves; manipulative fingers that, when alone, dance to bring me joy

Soft against my fevered brow, recycled air cools my head, soothes my nerves, nurtures my hangover

If I can earn back his attention, it will be his fingers driving deep, not mine

And his breath can sweep into my ear

A thrust of his own

Our Wind