// If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you //
Her scars only stuttered a thought, something tucked away to mourn later, when the encompassing heat generating between them would permit anything else to pass into existence without scorching it into dust and debris. It's not that he found her ruined, but that it stood out as a reminder of how he hadn't been there, how he's not strong enough even now to matter or shield. She hasn't asked him to, but having this makes him want to guard all the future possibilities of it. Not to tuck her away and keep her from the world, but to shove it back and make room for her to move freely, as she deserves.
Another time, for now he'd settle on peeling away the restraints to her he could manage, like bras and sweaters, the worst opposition he's ever faced in this moment.
The feel of her writhing beneath him summons a guttural groan of want. That he can give her this, that he can take it in turn, sparks something into a blaze that had long been banking in the dark and the quiet. No voices hum inside his mind now, sowing doubt or vicious frenzy, there is only her, guiding this moment into ecstasy with each arch and moan. His mouth finds the firm rise of her nipple, lavishing it as his gaze rises over the rise of her, snagging on the edge of his vision so he can watch each tremble wrack across her, strumming from his touch like she is an instrument he's just begun to learn how to build music on.
The work of her hands sends a thrill of anticipation so wild through him he's forced to tilt his head to the side, breath ragged against her skin for a moment before he withdraws, leaving her licked tits to prickle of air as he finishes what she started. His pants are kicked off without grace, the urgency to give her what she wants, what is pressing against the confines of a zipper, rousing a careless stumble and argument with cloth. When they are well and fully discarded, his ready cock is on full display, sinking back into the fit of their hips and her hands with a hiss of desire the moment the head brushes any part of her. "Fuck—Mel" His ache borders on hurt, the want so intense, nothing at all like the countless imaginary moments he's shared with her in his mind.
His hands slide up the outsides of her thighs, reaching up to her waistband to strip her of this final barrier between them. As eager as he is, so too does he savor this moment, the last time that it'll be the first time he gets to undress her, and he means to burn it into memory for the each of them. His fingers are greedy, tugging and yanking, but pause to press and hold the freshly revealed layer of her, stopping entirely when her ass pops free in full. With a wolfish grin he molds one hand to the curve of it, the other sinking against the border of her pants to the space between her thighs.
Another time, for now he'd settle on peeling away the restraints to her he could manage, like bras and sweaters, the worst opposition he's ever faced in this moment.
The feel of her writhing beneath him summons a guttural groan of want. That he can give her this, that he can take it in turn, sparks something into a blaze that had long been banking in the dark and the quiet. No voices hum inside his mind now, sowing doubt or vicious frenzy, there is only her, guiding this moment into ecstasy with each arch and moan. His mouth finds the firm rise of her nipple, lavishing it as his gaze rises over the rise of her, snagging on the edge of his vision so he can watch each tremble wrack across her, strumming from his touch like she is an instrument he's just begun to learn how to build music on.
The work of her hands sends a thrill of anticipation so wild through him he's forced to tilt his head to the side, breath ragged against her skin for a moment before he withdraws, leaving her licked tits to prickle of air as he finishes what she started. His pants are kicked off without grace, the urgency to give her what she wants, what is pressing against the confines of a zipper, rousing a careless stumble and argument with cloth. When they are well and fully discarded, his ready cock is on full display, sinking back into the fit of their hips and her hands with a hiss of desire the moment the head brushes any part of her. "Fuck—Mel" His ache borders on hurt, the want so intense, nothing at all like the countless imaginary moments he's shared with her in his mind.
His hands slide up the outsides of her thighs, reaching up to her waistband to strip her of this final barrier between them. As eager as he is, so too does he savor this moment, the last time that it'll be the first time he gets to undress her, and he means to burn it into memory for the each of them. His fingers are greedy, tugging and yanking, but pause to press and hold the freshly revealed layer of her, stopping entirely when her ass pops free in full. With a wolfish grin he molds one hand to the curve of it, the other sinking against the border of her pants to the space between her thighs.
ISKRA
// I'd wanna hold you just for a while and die with a smile //
