// I'd take the fall—I got you covered when there's no one at all //
The moment her fingers frame his face and force his gaze upward, he stills. Every motion in him suspends for a breath. One pause where the world stops spinning and rearranges itself around her eyes. Her gaze captures his easily, as natural as birds to breeze. Love emerges within the look like nebulas taking shape for a universe, and there, at its center, is her. The world falls away to steam, and she is all that remains clear in the fog, and hasn't that always been so.
Forever lands harder this time. He thought he'd prepared to receive a whisper, but the word echoes through him with the force of something shouted into the marrow of him, deep and seismic. The floor drops out beneath him at the sound. The only reason he doesn’t fall is because she’s wrapped around him, holding him up while she’s dismantling him entirely.
Before he can breathe again, she’s there like a vow he means to keep. She writes with her mouth, and call them pen pals because he answers with a letter of his own, each kiss a frantic scrawl of devotion. Every consuming press between them is an attempt to distill forever into this moment, then the next, and the next again. He loves her—now, yesterday, tomorrow, and all the days behind and ahead. The devotion between them doesn’t ease the madness of his want, it feeds it. Every touch is a hunger not just to have her, but to love her in every way, and even one he'll make up just for her. He'll start with the love of fucking her.
Her trembling fingers shift her underwear aside, opening herself for him fully. The sight of her wanting him, waiting for him, it drags a sound from his chest that’s wholly feral. He doesn’t hesitate. He takes the bared heat of her in one hard surge of his hips, driving up into her, the arm around her shoulder holding her steady against the recoil, ensuring a deep and complete fill. The hot grip of her closing around him is a relief that shudders up his spine so violently his breath breaks. Where their foreheads meet, his breath collides with hers in a short and rough burst, the edge of a groan.
He withdraws until just the flare of his tip pulses against her, then slides in slow and teasing, withholding what they both want in order to savor the friction of her panties snaring on the edge of him, and the steady draw of heat along his length as he sinks into the end. "Fuck," he grinds out, the sound wavering as breath pitches, hips rolling as he stays buried inside her. "You feel so fucking good." The words rip free like they had to, like they've been vibrating in his bones and finally found the crack to escape through.
Then, as if punishment past due for such an affront, among others, he presses her further into the wall. His hands shift to cup beneath each thigh, holding her exactly where he needs in order to find a brutal rhythm, each thrust threatening to shake the tile. Water beats against their skin, droplets exploding with every movement, a miniature storm breaking around their bodies as their own thunder fills the room.
Forever lands harder this time. He thought he'd prepared to receive a whisper, but the word echoes through him with the force of something shouted into the marrow of him, deep and seismic. The floor drops out beneath him at the sound. The only reason he doesn’t fall is because she’s wrapped around him, holding him up while she’s dismantling him entirely.
Before he can breathe again, she’s there like a vow he means to keep. She writes with her mouth, and call them pen pals because he answers with a letter of his own, each kiss a frantic scrawl of devotion. Every consuming press between them is an attempt to distill forever into this moment, then the next, and the next again. He loves her—now, yesterday, tomorrow, and all the days behind and ahead. The devotion between them doesn’t ease the madness of his want, it feeds it. Every touch is a hunger not just to have her, but to love her in every way, and even one he'll make up just for her. He'll start with the love of fucking her.
Her trembling fingers shift her underwear aside, opening herself for him fully. The sight of her wanting him, waiting for him, it drags a sound from his chest that’s wholly feral. He doesn’t hesitate. He takes the bared heat of her in one hard surge of his hips, driving up into her, the arm around her shoulder holding her steady against the recoil, ensuring a deep and complete fill. The hot grip of her closing around him is a relief that shudders up his spine so violently his breath breaks. Where their foreheads meet, his breath collides with hers in a short and rough burst, the edge of a groan.
He withdraws until just the flare of his tip pulses against her, then slides in slow and teasing, withholding what they both want in order to savor the friction of her panties snaring on the edge of him, and the steady draw of heat along his length as he sinks into the end. "Fuck," he grinds out, the sound wavering as breath pitches, hips rolling as he stays buried inside her. "You feel so fucking good." The words rip free like they had to, like they've been vibrating in his bones and finally found the crack to escape through.
Then, as if punishment past due for such an affront, among others, he presses her further into the wall. His hands shift to cup beneath each thigh, holding her exactly where he needs in order to find a brutal rhythm, each thrust threatening to shake the tile. Water beats against their skin, droplets exploding with every movement, a miniature storm breaking around their bodies as their own thunder fills the room.
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
