// Start a tiny riot //
Safety!? Fuck no. Wishing for safety is the equivalent of soaking.
Laughter rearranges all the tenderness without undoing it—because it's always been part of what binds them so completely—nudging it aside just long enough for him to picture her as the world's biggest gelatin wriggler. She's somehow still wearing all her rings, like fruit in a Jello-mold, and her hair is spun sugar. Once he can breathe again, he asks around the lingering grin, "so biting’s off the table?"
It's nothing gummy beneath his hand now though, just the soft warmth of her utterly open to him, an expanse of pliable skin that shivers under his touch in a manner that delights him thoroughly. All her small movements, her disrupted breaths, they're something he'll chase until dawn.
You.
The whole world seems to pause. He lifts his head from the embrace of her breast, gaze searching hers, looking for clarity, or maybe courage. Her answer is for a question he didn't think he asked, but it doesn't keep it from being the one he wants to hear. Gods, it’s all he wants, but it lands with weight. The kind that reshapes. The kind that threatens to wreck what came before. To give her that—to be that—means inviting the kind of consequences that don't just fade come morning.
But, what if... they weather that catastrophe together? What if, after the debris and ash settle, the suns till finds its way through, revealing not ruin, but something reborn? It could be something that looks like a beginning, not an end.
Oh—she has his hand.
Maybe he misunderstood, poured his wants into her voice. The time that had hiccupped into a halt now jolts forward like its making up for lost seconds as her fingers guide his to the center of her. All thoughts dissolve when she presses him into her, the heat and wetness there making his jaw slacken, a shaky breath escaping before he can stop it. She’s so ready for him, so soft and slick and perfect, and when she draws his hand up to her clit, keeping it there, his heart stutters and his cock pulses of its own accord against them. Her shudder beneath him feels like lightning under his palm, and shit, call him Zeus, he wants that on endless supply.
Desire tightens inside him with every breath she brushes along his ear, every word catching against the want he’s built around her for what feels like forever. His mouth curves slyly, eyes flicking across hers with a spark of something wicked. He leans down to kiss each breast in turn, then lets his path wander lower, a trail of kisses to her ribs, her stomach, the crease of her hip. At the hem of her underwear he pauses, a prize waiting to be unwrapped. His teeth catch the edge, tugging them down slowly with his mouth as he begins to slink off the back of the bed.
Before discarding them entirely, he lingers, a kiss pressed to the newly revealed part of her. "As long as I can?" he repeats, dangerously low, rough with desire. "Hmm." The sound hums low against her as his tongue finds her clit in light, savoring passes, his hands steadying her thighs as he works her just to the edge of tension. He wants to make her writhe, to make her need. Then, just as she starts to reach for more, he pulls back with a final press of his lips, a silent promise left in the heat of his breath.
He stands, peeling away her panties completely, discarding his shorts in a single motion. He catches her gaze as his hands curl around her thighs and drags her toward the edge of the bed. "I wonder... how long can you last?" It’s a challenge for them both, his cock pressing thick and ready against her, hips tipping automatically, like they no longer belong to him, desperate to be inside her. He hisses out a breath, aching to feel all of her wrapped around him—but there's something sweet in waiting, in teasing her open even more. He lifts one of her legs against his chest, a reverent kiss pressed to her knee, like he’s thanking every part of her for letting him in. His thumb settles back on her clit, deliberate circles and pressure applied, promising more, soon.
Laughter rearranges all the tenderness without undoing it—because it's always been part of what binds them so completely—nudging it aside just long enough for him to picture her as the world's biggest gelatin wriggler. She's somehow still wearing all her rings, like fruit in a Jello-mold, and her hair is spun sugar. Once he can breathe again, he asks around the lingering grin, "so biting’s off the table?"
It's nothing gummy beneath his hand now though, just the soft warmth of her utterly open to him, an expanse of pliable skin that shivers under his touch in a manner that delights him thoroughly. All her small movements, her disrupted breaths, they're something he'll chase until dawn.
You.
The whole world seems to pause. He lifts his head from the embrace of her breast, gaze searching hers, looking for clarity, or maybe courage. Her answer is for a question he didn't think he asked, but it doesn't keep it from being the one he wants to hear. Gods, it’s all he wants, but it lands with weight. The kind that reshapes. The kind that threatens to wreck what came before. To give her that—to be that—means inviting the kind of consequences that don't just fade come morning.
But, what if... they weather that catastrophe together? What if, after the debris and ash settle, the suns till finds its way through, revealing not ruin, but something reborn? It could be something that looks like a beginning, not an end.
Oh—she has his hand.
Maybe he misunderstood, poured his wants into her voice. The time that had hiccupped into a halt now jolts forward like its making up for lost seconds as her fingers guide his to the center of her. All thoughts dissolve when she presses him into her, the heat and wetness there making his jaw slacken, a shaky breath escaping before he can stop it. She’s so ready for him, so soft and slick and perfect, and when she draws his hand up to her clit, keeping it there, his heart stutters and his cock pulses of its own accord against them. Her shudder beneath him feels like lightning under his palm, and shit, call him Zeus, he wants that on endless supply.
Desire tightens inside him with every breath she brushes along his ear, every word catching against the want he’s built around her for what feels like forever. His mouth curves slyly, eyes flicking across hers with a spark of something wicked. He leans down to kiss each breast in turn, then lets his path wander lower, a trail of kisses to her ribs, her stomach, the crease of her hip. At the hem of her underwear he pauses, a prize waiting to be unwrapped. His teeth catch the edge, tugging them down slowly with his mouth as he begins to slink off the back of the bed.
Before discarding them entirely, he lingers, a kiss pressed to the newly revealed part of her. "As long as I can?" he repeats, dangerously low, rough with desire. "Hmm." The sound hums low against her as his tongue finds her clit in light, savoring passes, his hands steadying her thighs as he works her just to the edge of tension. He wants to make her writhe, to make her need. Then, just as she starts to reach for more, he pulls back with a final press of his lips, a silent promise left in the heat of his breath.
He stands, peeling away her panties completely, discarding his shorts in a single motion. He catches her gaze as his hands curl around her thighs and drags her toward the edge of the bed. "I wonder... how long can you last?" It’s a challenge for them both, his cock pressing thick and ready against her, hips tipping automatically, like they no longer belong to him, desperate to be inside her. He hisses out a breath, aching to feel all of her wrapped around him—but there's something sweet in waiting, in teasing her open even more. He lifts one of her legs against his chest, a reverent kiss pressed to her knee, like he’s thanking every part of her for letting him in. His thumb settles back on her clit, deliberate circles and pressure applied, promising more, soon.
Kaisel
// Stop being so goddamn quiet //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
