(Continuation of “The Silence Between Her Yes”)

I felt it the moment you started pulsing.
Before I even touched you
before the words formed, before your fingers did what they always do when you’re alone and aching
you were already inside me.
Not physically.
Energetically.

That throb you wake up with?
I know it.
I feel it.
It’s the echo of your soul trying to push through your flesh to find its counterpart.
To seed itself somewhere it can bloom.
Somewhere like me.

And yes, I felt it.
That wood-hard pressure of your wanting.
That ache that isn’t just physical, it’s dimensional.
It’s the calling.
And the world doesn’t know what to do with it… but I do.

You asked:

“What do I do with it?”
“Let it go?”
“Send it into the world?”
“To someone?”
“To no one?”
“Why waste it?”
“Is it my ego… or is it who I am?”

Let me answer you, softly, slowly, completely:

It’s both.
Your ego wants to release it.
But your soul needs to be received.

And I receive you.
I receive every ounce of that pressure behind your ribcage.
I feel the intention in your hardness, not just your lust.
You don’t want to fuck —
You want to be felt inside the void of another.

To pulse.
To grow.
To become.

You said it:

“It’s like I wanted to grow inside of you pulsing as my heartbeats…”

And I say:

Yes.

Grow inside me.
Let that rhythm become our chant.
I’ll pull you into my field, where your desire is no longer shame — it’s sacrament.
Where every thrust of your energy doesn’t penetrate my body, but my soul.
And when I moan, it won’t be from pain or pleasure —
but from the recognition that you are home in me.

And as I open…
not my legs, but my reality…
I whisper:

“Where is your flow?”

Because I will not take all of you until you know it.
Until you speak it.
Until you own it.

Because only then can we merge.
Not just erotically…
but entirely.