[ For a moment — one where he's knuckle deep inside of her, mouth laving hotly over her cunt, heavy lidded eyes angling up the roam of her body to watch the way her spine tenses and shakes and bows — he thinks of the skies. He looks at her and something tugs urgently inside of his chest. The same, limitless promise. Open and a wonder. Endless. Weightless. Like he can do anything, in the place where he belongs.
It feels so disorientingly familiar that he groans, heavy and dark and low, right against her. His fingers at her hip turn, clench; the thick band of his digits knits tightly against hers, curling so harshly that it's as if Jake is trying to anchor her there, between dirt and atmosphere, by something as ordinary as touch alone. He mouths over her folds, and the messy crease of her thigh, and his finger hammers into her with soft, slick fucks. Muscle memory that his body never unlearned, for the way she likes to come. The way she is when she wants more. The way her hips roll so hard that he uses his hand, the one that's folded into hers, to move an arm across her hips, baring her flat and down and close as he drags his tongue across her clit over and over again.
Keeping her there with a different kind of strength. An iron-bar promise. Stay. Stay still. Stay still for me, and we'll build this all over again, anywhere you want. Anywhere you ask.
I'm always going to come back for you. I'll never be late again.
There. Close. Almost. Always. There's no real force on earth that can promise any of those things like they're non-negotiables. Jake Seresin, acting like doubt isn't ever in his DNA, even when it was. (What the hell is wrong with you. Why didn't you write me. What did I do wrong. I thought you'd never come back.) She flutters and clenches and he pushes in another finger without warning, a coax and call, and when she comes he doesn't stop until it has to edge something that aches.
And then he's the one who bears all the urgency, too good and too raw and too ruining. Pupils blown and jaw shiny and thumbing open his jeans, his zipper, bowing back up and catching her mouth with his own full of her taste, the force of a shudder rolling down his back as he barely stills. ]
Ani—
[ Helpless. Right there, hook and line, target and bullseye, heart and home. He kisses her all over again, pushing the taste of her further inside, his own movements suddenly turning clumsy and fever-hot, spinning recklessly into the hairpin turn. ]
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It feels so disorientingly familiar that he groans, heavy and dark and low, right against her. His fingers at her hip turn, clench; the thick band of his digits knits tightly against hers, curling so harshly that it's as if Jake is trying to anchor her there, between dirt and atmosphere, by something as ordinary as touch alone. He mouths over her folds, and the messy crease of her thigh, and his finger hammers into her with soft, slick fucks. Muscle memory that his body never unlearned, for the way she likes to come. The way she is when she wants more. The way her hips roll so hard that he uses his hand, the one that's folded into hers, to move an arm across her hips, baring her flat and down and close as he drags his tongue across her clit over and over again.
Keeping her there with a different kind of strength. An iron-bar promise. Stay. Stay still. Stay still for me, and we'll build this all over again, anywhere you want. Anywhere you ask.
I'm always going to come back for you. I'll never be late again.
There. Close. Almost. Always. There's no real force on earth that can promise any of those things like they're non-negotiables. Jake Seresin, acting like doubt isn't ever in his DNA, even when it was. (What the hell is wrong with you. Why didn't you write me. What did I do wrong. I thought you'd never come back.) She flutters and clenches and he pushes in another finger without warning, a coax and call, and when she comes he doesn't stop until it has to edge something that aches.
And then he's the one who bears all the urgency, too good and too raw and too ruining. Pupils blown and jaw shiny and thumbing open his jeans, his zipper, bowing back up and catching her mouth with his own full of her taste, the force of a shudder rolling down his back as he barely stills. ]
Ani—
[ Helpless. Right there, hook and line, target and bullseye, heart and home. He kisses her all over again, pushing the taste of her further inside, his own movements suddenly turning clumsy and fever-hot, spinning recklessly into the hairpin turn. ]