Destination Desire. Male point of view. Same love story 🖤

The hum of the tube train increased as it accelerated away from the platform while we merged into the crowd making its way down the steps.

Too many people for my liking, my hand holding tight to her tender fingers. I would not let them go as we jostled the crowds.

We found a space to wait on the platform while I kept an eye on the train departure times. I cannot take the risk that Bandas will follow me while I am with her.

Stifling July air clung around us, her fingers entwined with my own which makes me want to show her that her fingers are choosing the safest options open to her.

She is a good looking woman: I’ve noticed other men admire her but I know what they want. Not her mind, her dreams. They want her body; bastards will not get it on my watch.

I look toward the announcement board – two minutes and then a tube train will whisk her nearer to my home. Was that Bandas in the crowd? Dark beanie, set jaw.

She has no idea that my desire is to treasure her every morsel of fibre beneath my touch. And no idea that Bandas is after my time, my loyalty, my life. I’ll deal with him soon enough.

We have drunk a little too much and I recognise her alcohol-fuelled eyes. The emotion of the moment is rushing through her veins, I am aware of this. I would never take advantage of her evident need; yet I want her.

I want to touch her velvet skin, I want to kiss the pink pouty lips, stroke her long blonde locks which are now flying across her face as she leans back against the inner door of this stupid train.

I notice how she tries to tuck it neatly behind her ears as the rushing air pushes it around her beautiful face. Those ears I want to kiss, taste and whisper into. Her neck, so pale and delicate, needs kissing and loving, protecting.

I feel the need deep in my loins to deliver tender kisses, which will turn into bites of passion. I want her so bad and I think she wants me too but I can’t be sure.

I will not assume although the blood pulses through me and I want to take her in my arms, hold her like she has never been held.

Some stunning quartet of wanton sound oozes from her soul, through those lips to my ears and I am sure my efforts are not in vain.

I cannot help staring at her green eyes which do not appear to be able to hold my gaze; yet I feel part of her. I see no-one else on this carriage. I want only what I see in front of me, someone more beautiful than all the make-up covered girls I have dated recently.

This woman who is real, who breathes life, who sees the real me. She has opened my eyes to what true love might be and over the month we have dated, I have held back against my instinct; my heartbeat.

But soon I will need to take her, make her mine.

(If you missed the female’s POV for this same flash fiction, read it here!)

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/quartet/”>Quartet</a&gt;