Need a hundred lifetimes kinda love
The warm greeting of her tongue against his thumb sends another flare of want roiling straight through him, the ghost of that touch brushing against the tip still straining in his pants. He's half a mind to slip his thumb further into her mouth, but he hesitates, and instead contents himself with watching the gentle curl of her smile press in around his digit, words lilting behind it with all the sparkle of memory. It's one that stills him for a moment, breath catching briefly before he swallows, because gods, he almost didn't kiss her back, and what would his life be like now if he hadn't? Far worse, he's certain.
He tosses that useless what if away into the fold of her lips and the brush of pom-poms against his head. Her whisper, the notion that she'll never have another first kiss, ignites him so thoroughly his words burn up in the back of his throat. Her kiss doesn't come fast enough and he leans up to meet it, devouring her mouth with a deep and urgent passion. He palms each of her hips tightly, pulling her closer to the stiff outline of his trapped cock, urging her further into the press of him as if proximity alone might save him.
Her slow, deliberate movement has him tipping his head back for half a breath, breaking from her tongue with a groan. "Never, stop," he agrees, or tells, hard to say which at this point. He shifts her higher up onto him with a firm hoist of his hands, her chest swaying over him in a change of vire he doesn't mind in the slightest. He uses the new space to undo his pants while his head bows deeper into her, the motion holding all the quiet ritual of prayer as his mouth hums against her skin, driven further by the tempting scent of strawberry that seems to have gotten stronger. He trails reverent kisses over the slope of her breasts, freshly freed from the lace that still sags around her, unhurried despite the intent of his hands at his waist. He lingers, nipping at the red pasties that keep her from full exposure, no better than a dog with a bone now.
He tosses that useless what if away into the fold of her lips and the brush of pom-poms against his head. Her whisper, the notion that she'll never have another first kiss, ignites him so thoroughly his words burn up in the back of his throat. Her kiss doesn't come fast enough and he leans up to meet it, devouring her mouth with a deep and urgent passion. He palms each of her hips tightly, pulling her closer to the stiff outline of his trapped cock, urging her further into the press of him as if proximity alone might save him.
Her slow, deliberate movement has him tipping his head back for half a breath, breaking from her tongue with a groan. "Never, stop," he agrees, or tells, hard to say which at this point. He shifts her higher up onto him with a firm hoist of his hands, her chest swaying over him in a change of vire he doesn't mind in the slightest. He uses the new space to undo his pants while his head bows deeper into her, the motion holding all the quiet ritual of prayer as his mouth hums against her skin, driven further by the tempting scent of strawberry that seems to have gotten stronger. He trails reverent kisses over the slope of her breasts, freshly freed from the lace that still sags around her, unhurried despite the intent of his hands at his waist. He lingers, nipping at the red pasties that keep her from full exposure, no better than a dog with a bone now.
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
