I'll rise up for you, for you, for you

Hotaru

Roses are red and I wish I could see them bloom
But all I see are orange hues

Normally she can scarcely breathe for how she demands his lips against hers when they fuck - because that's what this is, nothing so beautiful as making love - but with his lips painting lurid marks no her sternum and across her collarbones it leaves her free to tilt her head back until golden sand and golden hair become one, each punched-out moan and whimper free to be swallowed up by the distant ocean and crackle of fire.

Color flushes up her neck and into her cheeks, eyes dark and lidded at the blunt, devilishly sexy rumble of his teasing. It makes her tighten around his cock just imagining that. The heated eyes of their guaranteed onlookers, the splay of their shared hands across the bar top, the badly concealed meeting of their bodies hidden only by the width of his shoulders and the rucked-up layers of her skirt. Her eager lust is like the lash of a whip across the bond, helpless to lock down how enticing she finds that idea.

Fuck, next time, please, she begs, greedy and salivating at the notion. The bar, the front desk, the deck - anywhere you want me, anywhere I want you, a free show for anyone around. And fuck anyone who didn't appreciate it, because Hotaru is convinced nothing could be hotter to watch than the two of them falling into each other like this. The whine that curls in her mouth is unclear whether it's summoned by the hard thrusting of his hips or the imagery they paint together with their vulgar words, but as Ru's nails scrape across his clothed back she doesn't think it really matters.

Now you’re stuck in my head and I wish I could sing the blues
But all I hear are orange tunes, and all I do is think of you