Maeve
The groan vibrates through her, curling around her spine until it comes to a rest at the base, tingling there as she arches into him. Her hands tighten their grip on him. One at his shoulder and the other in his hair, tugging lightly at his soaked curls. It's a new pet name. It isn't kitten and somehow that makes it different. "Babe? Am I your babe now?" She teases, head tilting back to expose more of her throat to him, letting him leave his marks on her skin gladly. The words do nothing for the embers burning in her belly, only serving to make them flare brighter and hotter. She only hopes that it's a hint as to what's going to come later.
It definitely won't be the last time. It isn't even the first time. They used to do it together before he left. Sometimes not bothering to dress for hours because they were inevitably going to go again. Her thoughts aren't on Torchline right now. Not when he's pressing against her and kissing her throat the way he is. He holds her tightly to himself, letting her arch and gasp, breathing in greedy sips of steamy air as the water rains down on his shoulders.
They're kissing again, his mouth covering hers as his hands slip down her back, cupping her ass and pulling her closer to him. His fingertips knead the peachy flesh of her ass, whispering his confession against her lips like he's confessing his sins. Maeve's breath stutters out against his lips, "Me too.." It doesn't matter which one it is because she missed both things. They're supposed to be behaving. They aren't meant to go any further, but suddenly she's jumping up slightly, wrapping her legs around his hips because she can't fucking help it. She needs to be closer to him. So much closer. "Missed you.. Tu m'as manqué. Vous avez manqué votre bite. Ta langue. Tout. Je souhaite que vous ne soyez jamais parti." Maeve murmurs, the foreign language falling off of her tongue as she presses against him, her own lips finding his throat. She finally leaves a mark of her own, right over his pulse where he can't hide it from anyone. He's hers just as much as she's his.
It definitely won't be the last time. It isn't even the first time. They used to do it together before he left. Sometimes not bothering to dress for hours because they were inevitably going to go again. Her thoughts aren't on Torchline right now. Not when he's pressing against her and kissing her throat the way he is. He holds her tightly to himself, letting her arch and gasp, breathing in greedy sips of steamy air as the water rains down on his shoulders.
They're kissing again, his mouth covering hers as his hands slip down her back, cupping her ass and pulling her closer to him. His fingertips knead the peachy flesh of her ass, whispering his confession against her lips like he's confessing his sins. Maeve's breath stutters out against his lips, "Me too.." It doesn't matter which one it is because she missed both things. They're supposed to be behaving. They aren't meant to go any further, but suddenly she's jumping up slightly, wrapping her legs around his hips because she can't fucking help it. She needs to be closer to him. So much closer. "Missed you.. Tu m'as manqué. Vous avez manqué votre bite. Ta langue. Tout. Je souhaite que vous ne soyez jamais parti." Maeve murmurs, the foreign language falling off of her tongue as she presses against him, her own lips finding his throat. She finally leaves a mark of her own, right over his pulse where he can't hide it from anyone. He's hers just as much as she's his.
And I was catching my breath
Staring out an open window
catching my death
Staring out an open window
catching my death
