A language of fire and breath. These are the words that mean more here.
Burn
To feel deeply. To long without apology. The quiet ache of aliveness.
Frame
To hold something gently, with reverence. To give shape to what might otherwise vanish.
Whisper
A message not meant for all ears. Often more true than anything shouted.
Bosom
Not just a chest, but a cradle. A place of comfort, sensual weight, and warmth.
Fanny
A playful word for what’s behind—round, soft, coy, or commanding, depending on who says it.
Tush
Casual and sweet. Often followed by a smirk or a squeeze. Familiar, not crude.
Slick
The sound and feel of readiness. Not a judgment, but a state. A verb hiding as an adjective.
Tremble
When the body knows before the mind catches up. Vulnerable, sacred, arousing.
Pulse
The measure of want. Not just a beat—but a beckon.
Crook
The bend of an elbow, the space behind a knee—intimate terrain. A body’s invitation.
Quiver
Lips, thighs, breath. A tremor of wanting, hesitation, or the edge before surrender.
Graze
A touch so light it might be memory. Or promise. Or mistake. All of them ache.