The Body Remembers Where Desire Lives Last night, I dreamed of Nico’s hands. Not as I wrote them, but as I knew them. The kind of memory that clings like sweat after a long run, salt-stung and intimate. He wasn’t…
Power, Weight, Press The first time he pinned me down, it wasn’t with arms. It was with his thighs. Solid. Relentless. The way they pressed into the mattress—one on either side of my ribs—left me no place to go, no…
What Polyamory Isn’t You’ve seen the headlines. Heard the jokes. The loaded sighs. The questions posed like accusations:“Isn’t that just cheating with extra steps?”“Isn’t it just about the sex?”“Isn’t it just… a phase?” The keyphrase “what polyamory isn’t” has trailed…
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