// Got something inside, don't hide it, like dynamite ignitin' //
Oh, so green light with Caly means dive in and don't fucking come up for air until you're near drowning, and even then, consider if the air is worth it. Here he thought he might tease a bit more before guiding her to the next way he meant to make it up to her, the place he hoped to bed her if all went well, but fuck it, who's he to deny her wants here and now, burger joint be damned.
He tilts his head into the thread of her nails in his hair, everything in him sparking with the sensation of the drag, no different than a match to kerosene. She leaves little marks behind and he wants each and every one. He leans in, shifting her higher and setting the arch of her back against the edge of the table to free up the hand at her spine. That hand comes to cup her breast, palming the weight of it through the fabric before tugging the neckline down—peeling her open like a favorite sweet, unwrapped and all his. His mouth finds her exposed nipple, teasing at first, tongue tracing around it before he sets his mouth against it in earnest.
Her voice is all the encouragement he needs. She's pulling him faster than he can hang on, but fuck if he isn't down for the ride.
Her shift against him pulls a groan straight from his chest, another flare of want blazing through him, his jeans straining to contain it with her pressed so warm and wanting against him. He breaks that final barrier, fingers gliding beneath the last scrap of fabric, his breath catching hard against her chest at how slick she already feels.
He doesn’t hesitate. One finger, then two, slide inside her—warm, wet, perfect. "Fuck—Caly," he exhales roughly, like he's already losing a grip on how to speak with her perched on him like this. He curls his fingers against her before sliding them deep, gathering her, already addicted to the feel. He pulls back just long enough to bring those fingers to his mouth and taste her fully, a wicked smile following the sampling. "Just like I thought, my new favorite flavor." His other hand drops low, pressing a thumb to her clit, drawing tight, deliberate circles.
He tilts his head into the thread of her nails in his hair, everything in him sparking with the sensation of the drag, no different than a match to kerosene. She leaves little marks behind and he wants each and every one. He leans in, shifting her higher and setting the arch of her back against the edge of the table to free up the hand at her spine. That hand comes to cup her breast, palming the weight of it through the fabric before tugging the neckline down—peeling her open like a favorite sweet, unwrapped and all his. His mouth finds her exposed nipple, teasing at first, tongue tracing around it before he sets his mouth against it in earnest.
Her voice is all the encouragement he needs. She's pulling him faster than he can hang on, but fuck if he isn't down for the ride.
Her shift against him pulls a groan straight from his chest, another flare of want blazing through him, his jeans straining to contain it with her pressed so warm and wanting against him. He breaks that final barrier, fingers gliding beneath the last scrap of fabric, his breath catching hard against her chest at how slick she already feels.
He doesn’t hesitate. One finger, then two, slide inside her—warm, wet, perfect. "Fuck—Caly," he exhales roughly, like he's already losing a grip on how to speak with her perched on him like this. He curls his fingers against her before sliding them deep, gathering her, already addicted to the feel. He pulls back just long enough to bring those fingers to his mouth and taste her fully, a wicked smile following the sampling. "Just like I thought, my new favorite flavor." His other hand drops low, pressing a thumb to her clit, drawing tight, deliberate circles.
Kaisel
// Take the music, learn to use it, turn it up 'til your speakers blow fuses //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
