melita
She arched and leaned into the motions of his mouth, felt the longing stir beneath her skin and along her body in wanton edges; a moan breaking away from her lungs with each exquisite rush of his tongue down the course of her flesh. Gestures for more came with the pitch of her keen sounds; hooded gaze taking him in – a lustful gaze traversing down the course of his frame like she could bite and consume and devour with little remorse. At one point she might have laughed when the stubble along his jaw caught a ticklish endeavor, but otherwise she reached and pulled, tugged for him too; shuddered, shivered, ached for further undulations. A difference in the last time they’d caught themselves here – that had felt rushed, heady, both racing and chasing for something they hadn’t known the other craved too. This shift felt like intention and stretching, secure, more known, less impetuous, defined and definite and not wholly clouded by all those confusions.
She’d drawn that line in the sand months before, stepped over it with bold stride after bold stride, daring and tossing and there to meet him.
But gods, any clarity was sent back into the thrall the moment his hands guided hers; a simple, feral, ghost of a grin contorted into her features and didn’t leave; flickering her gaze to meet his on a provoking measure. She gave an experimental touch, fingers airy, a caress, of flesh beneath his waistband, to watch his reaction, to relish the thoughts and motions of desires warring through his face. Light at first as pants fell away and shuffled off somewhere, before she became audacious; hand purposeful at his cock, teasing, coy, while she raised her face to his; every bit a fringe of assured, brazen, and shameless pursuits. “I want you,” she breathed over his lips, letting it echo and pulse, before her mouth claimed his, let the fervor reverberate. No room for questions or apprehensions, seditious and forthright. Even thereafter, to clarify her point, she took her free hand and snagged at his, leading him towards her own core, eager for him.
salvation doesn't look like light
