// If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you //
The fit of her is like nothing he's ever imagined. It sends a full shudder through his body, hot and prickling as the lightning that hums in his veins. It drags him over her, weak to this heat, drowning in this flame that burns clean through every thought and feeling, leaving nothing but the brunt of pleasure to spark again and again against her flesh like they have always been flint.
As she asks him to wait he goes so still, breath hitching. Had he hurt her? Done something wrong? Missed a crucial part of this unknown? These thoughts flicker faster than the fire behind them, clawing through the euphoria with something that'll always be more important, her. There's no twinge of anything but echoed need in her voice though, and as he waits, she shuffles into a different stance, granting better space for him to reach for their enjoyment.
The way her mouth claims him unfreezes him. He submits to every grasp and pull of her lips, her tongue, her passion while he sets a rhythm against her. "Mel" he moans at the edge of her cheek, quivering with every strike of his hips like he's no better than the bowstring in her armaments. "You feel—" he can't manage the word, not with heat blooming so fierce he's forgotten language for the sake of chasing pleasure.
As she asks him to wait he goes so still, breath hitching. Had he hurt her? Done something wrong? Missed a crucial part of this unknown? These thoughts flicker faster than the fire behind them, clawing through the euphoria with something that'll always be more important, her. There's no twinge of anything but echoed need in her voice though, and as he waits, she shuffles into a different stance, granting better space for him to reach for their enjoyment.
The way her mouth claims him unfreezes him. He submits to every grasp and pull of her lips, her tongue, her passion while he sets a rhythm against her. "Mel" he moans at the edge of her cheek, quivering with every strike of his hips like he's no better than the bowstring in her armaments. "You feel—" he can't manage the word, not with heat blooming so fierce he's forgotten language for the sake of chasing pleasure.
ISKRA
// I'd wanna hold you just for a while and die with a smile //
