[ He's letting the alcohol spin his head, just a little, in the way it almost never does out there. His knees sink into the thick mattress. She tangles her fingers up in his hair, and he continues to kiss a path over her ribs, down to the hollow of her hip.
And while he enjoyed the year before plenty, fucking on a table leaves much less room to maneuver. The bed's better. It lets him slide between her legs with ease. He presses his lips to the inside of her thigh, lace swept to the side to make room—fabric bunched in his hand. The air thickens, a warmth flowing through him.
His head lifts after a moment. He said he'd make it worth the wait, and he means to. ]
no subject
And while he enjoyed the year before plenty, fucking on a table leaves much less room to maneuver. The bed's better. It lets him slide between her legs with ease. He presses his lips to the inside of her thigh, lace swept to the side to make room—fabric bunched in his hand. The air thickens, a warmth flowing through him.
His head lifts after a moment. He said he'd make it worth the wait, and he means to. ]
Tell me. What you want. And it's yours.