[ One day, he might just tell you how impossible you try to be: you ask him to take you to the edge, to make you forget everything but him, and yet you refuse to yield, you cling to the edge like the fall might kill you, as if he isn't right there offering to catch you on the other side.
He's pulling those fingers out now and lifting you ( albeit roughly ) off that bed and back onto is lap, crushing his mouth to yours and hands skimming feather-like over skin that he's kissed and caressed and pretty much worshiped. ]
Tell me. [ That's spoken between kisses that demand instead of ask, plunder instead of coax. He's learning, you see, to play with contrasts. Yes, the memories will overlap and nothing he can do to you is truly 'new', but he is greedy enough to do his best to make sure that when it's you and him in this bed or wherever else you two decide to fuck, you'll think only of the weight of his hands on you, of the way he kisses you the way he chooses to, and the way you will eventually give over because he won't stop until you do.
The blood is his head is pounding because this has become a thing between you two, tied in so tightly with the way your dynamic works: you run, he gives chase; you push away in all the senses of the word and he pulls you back because god fucking dammit the middle ground it is.
That belt is loosening just a bit so that he can slip one of your hands out of it's loop so that he can guide it down the length of his body so you can feel for yourself what you do to him. Those are his fingers over yours, curling your hand around where he's hard, aching and ready. And all this time his eyes, dark and turbulent as they are with need, are fixed unblinking on yours.
He's trembling as he fists his free hand in what he can of your hair, as he whispers, right at that spot where he'd really like to mark you best ( because he's heard you whimper in his arms when he'd lapped with his tongue at that spot and if he did leave a bruise on that tender flesh right where your jaw bleeds into the slope of your neck, the fact that you're his now, in this life, would be visible for anyone to see. ) ] You've already ruined me for anyone else. When the hell will you see that.
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He's pulling those fingers out now and lifting you ( albeit roughly ) off that bed and back onto is lap, crushing his mouth to yours and hands skimming feather-like over skin that he's kissed and caressed and pretty much worshiped. ]
Tell me. [ That's spoken between kisses that demand instead of ask, plunder instead of coax. He's learning, you see, to play with contrasts. Yes, the memories will overlap and nothing he can do to you is truly 'new', but he is greedy enough to do his best to make sure that when it's you and him in this bed or wherever else you two decide to fuck, you'll think only of the weight of his hands on you, of the way he kisses you the way he chooses to, and the way you will eventually give over because he won't stop until you do.
The blood is his head is pounding because this has become a thing between you two, tied in so tightly with the way your dynamic works: you run, he gives chase; you push away in all the senses of the word and he pulls you back because god fucking dammit the middle ground it is.
That belt is loosening just a bit so that he can slip one of your hands out of it's loop so that he can guide it down the length of his body so you can feel for yourself what you do to him. Those are his fingers over yours, curling your hand around where he's hard, aching and ready. And all this time his eyes, dark and turbulent as they are with need, are fixed unblinking on yours.
He's trembling as he fists his free hand in what he can of your hair, as he whispers, right at that spot where he'd really like to mark you best ( because he's heard you whimper in his arms when he'd lapped with his tongue at that spot and if he did leave a bruise on that tender flesh right where your jaw bleeds into the slope of your neck, the fact that you're his now, in this life, would be visible for anyone to see. ) ] You've already ruined me for anyone else. When the hell will you see that.