Daniel Chapman

August 04, 1982 Chicago
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A Romantic Night

You enter and settle in, eyes wandering, curious, unsure.
I smile and whisper, don't be afraid—
tonight was designed for you.
Hours folded into this moment:
low music humming like a promise,
wine breathing in crystal,
candles teaching the shadows how to dance.

We taste, we sip, we laugh—only the prelude.
Then I'm lost in your eyes,
those stolen stars that pull me under,
and you rest against me, surprised
by how easily you belong there.

I lift you gently, guide you down the hall,
each step slowing the world behind us.
In my room, time loosens its grip.
I undress you patiently, reverently,
piece by precious piece,
while the air itself conspires to calm you.

I ask you to lie still, face down,
and your thoughts begin to betray you—
fantasies stretching, waking,
while I remind myself to savor, not rush.
Desire sharpens when it waits.

My hands learn you slowly,
not a massage but a devotion,
curves memorized through touch alone.
Tonight, I exist to please.
Your hair carries a warmth I breathe in,
and my lips find your neck,
soft, lingering, deliberate.
I travel your body without hurry,
leaving no place untouched, no breath unclaimed.

Your voice tells me everything.
The sheets answer with movement.
I turn you over, smiling at your anticipation.

For a moment I simply look—
every line, every imperfection made holy.
Then I begin again, mirroring the same worship,
my attention drifting where words don't belong,
your body responding in shivers and surrender.
I feel the change in you before you speak it,
and I stay right there,
until your pleasure refuses to be quiet.

Your pulse races beneath my skin as I rise,
and you whisper that you're ready.
So am I.
The heat, the closeness, the perfect fit—
we meet and the world dissolves.
Our bodies speak a language older than thought,
minds slipping somewhere private and endless,
moving, exploring, laughing breathlessly
at how lost we've become.

Skin slick, hearts pounding,
time marked only by your climaxes,
until you pull me closer and ask for mine.
I resist, but only briefly—
and when we finally fall together,
it feels like completion, not an ending.

I hold you as the room grows quiet again,
your breathing syncing with mine.
In the dark, I kiss your temple,
whisper I love you,
and let sleep take us both.
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