Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love
Surprise flickers up briefly when she doesn’t pull away but instead grabs him, tugging him forward like she’s been waiting for him to get close enough to take him along on her ride. A sound slips out of him that’s half laugh, half startled exhale as her hands bunch in his sweater and scarf, and suddenly there’s no room for anything but the press of her body and the way her mouth keeps finding his. The rush of capture becoming mutual melts immediately, dissolving into the warmth of her embrace, and he has never wanted for anything more than this feeling of her claiming him just as wholly as he does her.
He follows the pull of her lead without question, kisses a breathless smear as they collide and recover and collide again. Short, giddy laughter brushes past teeth and lips as often as the low sound of building want. One arm wraps firm around her shoulders, fingers threading into her hair to keep her close as he leans into every step she takes. Whatever sight he might have spared for where they’re going is quickly abandoned, going by feel instead, by the way she moves them, by the warmth of her and the pulse of excitement humming straight through them. His free hand thumps against a wall, then drags along it, the process clumsy and delighted. It reaches out blindly in an attempt to keep them from barreling into anything important, focus too absorbed by her mouth.
Turning willingly at her insistence, swaying in her arms like this is a practiced give and take, he backs into the edge of the bed. The familiar buoy in this storm of heat is one he reaches for slowly, sinking into the bed deliberately. His arm tightens to pull her with him as he lands seated, trying to gather her in his lap and feel the full weight of her encircle him. Slipping free of her hair, his fingers trail the lace at her back like a pattern he's reading, his other hand joining the story at her hip. He tries to tug again, more purposeful this time, content to replace whatever he might ruin.
He follows the pull of her lead without question, kisses a breathless smear as they collide and recover and collide again. Short, giddy laughter brushes past teeth and lips as often as the low sound of building want. One arm wraps firm around her shoulders, fingers threading into her hair to keep her close as he leans into every step she takes. Whatever sight he might have spared for where they’re going is quickly abandoned, going by feel instead, by the way she moves them, by the warmth of her and the pulse of excitement humming straight through them. His free hand thumps against a wall, then drags along it, the process clumsy and delighted. It reaches out blindly in an attempt to keep them from barreling into anything important, focus too absorbed by her mouth.
Turning willingly at her insistence, swaying in her arms like this is a practiced give and take, he backs into the edge of the bed. The familiar buoy in this storm of heat is one he reaches for slowly, sinking into the bed deliberately. His arm tightens to pull her with him as he lands seated, trying to gather her in his lap and feel the full weight of her encircle him. Slipping free of her hair, his fingers trail the lace at her back like a pattern he's reading, his other hand joining the story at her hip. He tries to tug again, more purposeful this time, content to replace whatever he might ruin.
Kaisel
I could say forever, but forever ain't long enough
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
