// Got something inside, don't hide it, like dynamite ignitin' //
She looks ripe for the taking. Every flush that blooms along her curves, that low-lidded stare she pins him with, the way her mouth hangs just slightly open—breath hot and heavy with need. She’s catastrophically beautiful like this. He knows he’ll revisit this moment often.
The tightening of her legs around him, dragging him closer to her heat, starts to run through the edge of his restraint. And then her hand finds his, presses it to the curve of her breast like it belongs there—like it always has. The second he cups her, her pert nipple ducking under the spread of his fingers, his hips jerk with a flicker of control fast slipping. Something about don’t make me beg attempts to ruin him. His tip grinds harder against her entrance, hips rocking just enough to make them both ache.
"I’m not sure I’d survive it if you did," he says, voice ragged—wrecked by the tension that finally, blessedly breaks as he sinks fully into her. The relief is instant, but still not enough, not with the way she grips him, not with how she burns. He presses harder against her breast, fingers teasing her nipple with a practiced flick, while he finds a rhythm that feels like salvation between her thighs. One hand fists in her hair as he groans into the side of her neck, teeth dragging along skin like she’s the only thing he needs—like he could live and die right here, with her wrapped around him and nothing else.
The tightening of her legs around him, dragging him closer to her heat, starts to run through the edge of his restraint. And then her hand finds his, presses it to the curve of her breast like it belongs there—like it always has. The second he cups her, her pert nipple ducking under the spread of his fingers, his hips jerk with a flicker of control fast slipping. Something about don’t make me beg attempts to ruin him. His tip grinds harder against her entrance, hips rocking just enough to make them both ache.
"I’m not sure I’d survive it if you did," he says, voice ragged—wrecked by the tension that finally, blessedly breaks as he sinks fully into her. The relief is instant, but still not enough, not with the way she grips him, not with how she burns. He presses harder against her breast, fingers teasing her nipple with a practiced flick, while he finds a rhythm that feels like salvation between her thighs. One hand fists in her hair as he groans into the side of her neck, teeth dragging along skin like she’s the only thing he needs—like he could live and die right here, with her wrapped around him and nothing else.
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
