Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love
The way she folds around him, it feels like tugging on his favorite outfit, so snug with comfort and deep-seated completeness that he can't imagine anything more perfect. Her weight sinking into him blooms an immediate heat from his core to his extremities, and she'll find the firm proof of indulging in that want straining against the center of her seat. The heady moment breaks briefly, hunger splitting into a laugh as her pom-poms buffet him like angry birds from the nest of her hat. The sound dulls into just a gleam in the corner of his gaze as the world washes away into a sheet of heather-brown, his shirt and scarf pulling away without rebellion. The necklace shifts around the fabric, the floral pendant pressing in cool against his skin, in tandem with the slide of her hands. The sensation of her touch skittering over him earns a hitched breath, so he leans in to steal some of hers, hair fighting with pom-poms.
The sudden give of the fabric beneath his hands has him still, just for a moment, as if he's also weighing the way he means to undo her. Even without the sudden roll of her hips against him, eliciting a low murmur of approval, he's already decided that there's no sense in preserving the wrapping paper, not when the gift is what's inside. Fingers tighten and yank, meaning to tug the excess free, his other hand sliding up between her shoulder blades to hold her steady as she presses into him.
"Mm?" he hums back in response, gaze flicking from the close-quarter view of laze yielding and her breasts greeting him. His focus skips up though, fighting past pom-poms with a crooked smile, half fond and half melted. The memory of that night flickers to life in his thoughts, fighting past the current urge to have her like a ghost of arousals past. "I hav—" he begins to say, soft and bright with truth, but she removes it swiftly with an almost urgent seal of her mouth. He curls in around the press of her, tipping back fully onto the bed and carrying her with him, felled by the fierce weight of her love. Suddenly, whatever he was going to say doesn't matter nearly as much as more of that, and quietly he pulls her closer still, his arm cinching down against her back, content to suffocate on her lips.
Breathless, he tips away with a soft laugh born of too much feeling to keep carrying than anything funny. "I'm so glad that you kissed me," and though it's true for each and every time she has, he means the first time, here, when they otherwise might have fallen asleep. "I always want you to kiss me," he informs with all the seriousness he can muster, grip loosening slowly so he can reach up and tag her hat further down on her head, huffing out a soft breath at the sight. "The first time I realized how badly I wanted to kiss you, was at your house." the grin that breaks out is fully boyish, and that had been the moment his boyhood crush had deepened into something far more dangerous. "You put that ice cream spoon in your mouth and I couldn't stop noticing your lips after that." Here, his hand drifts from her cap to brush his thumb across those impeccable lips now.
"Gods, I want to kiss you every day and go mad trying to remember them all."
The sudden give of the fabric beneath his hands has him still, just for a moment, as if he's also weighing the way he means to undo her. Even without the sudden roll of her hips against him, eliciting a low murmur of approval, he's already decided that there's no sense in preserving the wrapping paper, not when the gift is what's inside. Fingers tighten and yank, meaning to tug the excess free, his other hand sliding up between her shoulder blades to hold her steady as she presses into him.
"Mm?" he hums back in response, gaze flicking from the close-quarter view of laze yielding and her breasts greeting him. His focus skips up though, fighting past pom-poms with a crooked smile, half fond and half melted. The memory of that night flickers to life in his thoughts, fighting past the current urge to have her like a ghost of arousals past. "I hav—" he begins to say, soft and bright with truth, but she removes it swiftly with an almost urgent seal of her mouth. He curls in around the press of her, tipping back fully onto the bed and carrying her with him, felled by the fierce weight of her love. Suddenly, whatever he was going to say doesn't matter nearly as much as more of that, and quietly he pulls her closer still, his arm cinching down against her back, content to suffocate on her lips.
Breathless, he tips away with a soft laugh born of too much feeling to keep carrying than anything funny. "I'm so glad that you kissed me," and though it's true for each and every time she has, he means the first time, here, when they otherwise might have fallen asleep. "I always want you to kiss me," he informs with all the seriousness he can muster, grip loosening slowly so he can reach up and tag her hat further down on her head, huffing out a soft breath at the sight. "The first time I realized how badly I wanted to kiss you, was at your house." the grin that breaks out is fully boyish, and that had been the moment his boyhood crush had deepened into something far more dangerous. "You put that ice cream spoon in your mouth and I couldn't stop noticing your lips after that." Here, his hand drifts from her cap to brush his thumb across those impeccable lips now.
"Gods, I want to kiss you every day and go mad trying to remember them all."
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
