MILO
this is for the snakes and the people they bite
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights
The vibration of her laugh against his throat only has that smirk growing slightly, a brief nudge of his head before she’s nuzzling in and he relaxes, letting another shudder shake its way through him. Her scars don’t frighten him, if anything they intrigue him more, a story listed out on her skin so completely different from his own, one that has him captivated even more by her and what she’s been through.
But he’s also still kind of a bit of a shit, shifting to grab the blanket with a briefly cocky smirk formed onto his face, clearly amused with himself even as her head nears his and looks back into his eyes. But her hands roam, his own diving under the draped blanket to her sides again, her hands pulling up the shirt he wears to reveal bronzed skin. She’d see the two pink lines of where he’d been stabbed, but nothing compared to hers. A few smattering of little scars are speckled along his skin, nothing with a story aside from ‘growing up’.
And he’s thin, built and kept completely for agility and keeping his muscles up for the heavier packages. But that’s mostly it. He isn’t built like a train, but he is completely set for the work he does.
Her lips find his torso, however, and it brings goosebumps in the blazing trail she brings, his hands shifting to her shoulders now, to tangle in her hair, to brush her jaw with his thumb, until the words leave her and Milo’s suddenly quite confused. A huff of air leaves him, red brows furrowing, one elbow slipping back to use as a brace in the sand to sit up and look at her a bit more fully through the lust driven haze. “Whattya mean?” He asks, to clarify the confusion clearly spiraling in his mind so suddenly.
But he’s also still kind of a bit of a shit, shifting to grab the blanket with a briefly cocky smirk formed onto his face, clearly amused with himself even as her head nears his and looks back into his eyes. But her hands roam, his own diving under the draped blanket to her sides again, her hands pulling up the shirt he wears to reveal bronzed skin. She’d see the two pink lines of where he’d been stabbed, but nothing compared to hers. A few smattering of little scars are speckled along his skin, nothing with a story aside from ‘growing up’.
And he’s thin, built and kept completely for agility and keeping his muscles up for the heavier packages. But that’s mostly it. He isn’t built like a train, but he is completely set for the work he does.
Her lips find his torso, however, and it brings goosebumps in the blazing trail she brings, his hands shifting to her shoulders now, to tangle in her hair, to brush her jaw with his thumb, until the words leave her and Milo’s suddenly quite confused. A huff of air leaves him, red brows furrowing, one elbow slipping back to use as a brace in the sand to sit up and look at her a bit more fully through the lust driven haze. “Whattya mean?” He asks, to clarify the confusion clearly spiraling in his mind so suddenly.
for the warning signs i've completely ignored
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more
