The bite

I bite his wrist and sigh in the scent of him. He still tastes the same, the way he tasted all those years ago when I first put my mouth on his body. I can remember. Scent and taste lodge in the brain. Forever.

I want to leave a mark with my teeth. Something that will stay with him for an hour or a day. A small visual reminder for once I've gone. The taste of me has long been stored in his mind. His mouth has touched every inch of my skin, more than once. Innumerable times.

He rescues his wrist and gives me his lips in its place.

"Do I still taste the same?"

"Yes."