// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //
He feels the way she pushes into his grasp, the subtle shift of something there but not quite there moving, meeting him with intention. It's less collision, more alignment, each of them folding into one another as if their shapes have always been designed to fit together. She crashes around him like tide meeting shore, hands flooding over his shoulders, thighs drowning his waist, breath rushing in. It strikes him with the full, obliterating force of mine all over again as she clings to him like salt to sea.
Then have me. Her voice settles like the dust around them, revealing every hidden thought he has. It's all the permission he needs. He surges forward with her in his hold, driven by hunger and something deeper, something thriving in the center of him that only she has ever touched. Each stride is an agreement to having her, urgently competing against the snapping of his restraint, which is quickly dissolving beneath the heat of her. Sections of it collapse in rapid succession when she reemerges like the sun breaking through a kitchen-born cloud, immediately warming him anew. Where mud marked them, flour coats every edge heavily, as if they’re something dredged and ready for fire.
She jostles in his grasp with every step and the friction of it is maddening, tugging sanity down in fast, dizzying increments. One of his hands slips up her back, dragging lines through the powder on her skin, which now seems like it'd been a bag of Cuba's finest with the way he wants to lose himself in her completely. His fingers curl over her shoulder, pressing alongside her scar without hesitation, claiming it like every other part of her. The other hand stays locked beneath her ass, holding her flush to the hard, desperate line of him.
He stumbles on forever. Not because his balance slips, but because everything inside him does. The word doesn’t just hit him, it barrels through him, slamming into every quiet fear that's dared to linger. Every moment he watched her shine and wondered how he deserved her, each gnawing worry that she’d look back and regret choosing him, the awful doubt that he'd be enough for her to keep wanting him. She crushes all of it with that one word. The one he's had her wrapped in since that very night, where he got a glimpse of something real, something that dared to upset every careful plan he thought he had to keep.
A groan born of terrible things dismantling tears into her mouth, raw and uncontrolled. He meets the way she melts into him, the way she grabs at him like she wants to crawl inside his ribs and stay there, as if she doesn't already have a home there. He hoists her higher, grip white-hot and unyielding, and kicks the bathroom door open hard enough for it to bounce. "It's never been anything else with you," he rasps around the corners of her lips, too needy to release them entirely.
For him that's been the case, but knowing she feels the same, he can't get enough of that feeling and the surge of joy it carries. Every moment forever gilded by her, it feels to good to be true, like he's found a way to dream during waking. "Say it again," he demands, breathless, coming undone just with her fucking voice. A kiss follows before she can answer, messy and consuming. Too impatient now to linger, he drags his mouth down her throat, biting at her pulse like he’s starving for it, like he wants to mark the word into her skin.
He slams her back gently and firmly against the tile of the shower, kissing her through it, swallowing every gasp she gives like it belongs to him. She should be able to reach the shower knobs, gods know he can't spare even a pinky from her right now. Hips surge forward with a helpless roll against her, held back by grime and a patience he no longer has, which sits on her in the shape of panties.
Then have me. Her voice settles like the dust around them, revealing every hidden thought he has. It's all the permission he needs. He surges forward with her in his hold, driven by hunger and something deeper, something thriving in the center of him that only she has ever touched. Each stride is an agreement to having her, urgently competing against the snapping of his restraint, which is quickly dissolving beneath the heat of her. Sections of it collapse in rapid succession when she reemerges like the sun breaking through a kitchen-born cloud, immediately warming him anew. Where mud marked them, flour coats every edge heavily, as if they’re something dredged and ready for fire.
She jostles in his grasp with every step and the friction of it is maddening, tugging sanity down in fast, dizzying increments. One of his hands slips up her back, dragging lines through the powder on her skin, which now seems like it'd been a bag of Cuba's finest with the way he wants to lose himself in her completely. His fingers curl over her shoulder, pressing alongside her scar without hesitation, claiming it like every other part of her. The other hand stays locked beneath her ass, holding her flush to the hard, desperate line of him.
He stumbles on forever. Not because his balance slips, but because everything inside him does. The word doesn’t just hit him, it barrels through him, slamming into every quiet fear that's dared to linger. Every moment he watched her shine and wondered how he deserved her, each gnawing worry that she’d look back and regret choosing him, the awful doubt that he'd be enough for her to keep wanting him. She crushes all of it with that one word. The one he's had her wrapped in since that very night, where he got a glimpse of something real, something that dared to upset every careful plan he thought he had to keep.
A groan born of terrible things dismantling tears into her mouth, raw and uncontrolled. He meets the way she melts into him, the way she grabs at him like she wants to crawl inside his ribs and stay there, as if she doesn't already have a home there. He hoists her higher, grip white-hot and unyielding, and kicks the bathroom door open hard enough for it to bounce. "It's never been anything else with you," he rasps around the corners of her lips, too needy to release them entirely.
For him that's been the case, but knowing she feels the same, he can't get enough of that feeling and the surge of joy it carries. Every moment forever gilded by her, it feels to good to be true, like he's found a way to dream during waking. "Say it again," he demands, breathless, coming undone just with her fucking voice. A kiss follows before she can answer, messy and consuming. Too impatient now to linger, he drags his mouth down her throat, biting at her pulse like he’s starving for it, like he wants to mark the word into her skin.
He slams her back gently and firmly against the tile of the shower, kissing her through it, swallowing every gasp she gives like it belongs to him. She should be able to reach the shower knobs, gods know he can't spare even a pinky from her right now. Hips surge forward with a helpless roll against her, held back by grime and a patience he no longer has, which sits on her in the shape of panties.
Kaisel
// When you need somebody to turn to—Nobody got you the way I do //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
