Somewhere in the haze, we hit the counter. A glass tips, shatters, but neither of us stops. The noise just folds into the moment—another piece of the chaos we’ve been pretending we could control.
“Leo,” I manage, when the need for air wins. My voice shakes. “This isn’t?—”
He cuts me off with another kiss, softer this time, but it still burns. “It is,” he murmurs against my mouth. “It always is.”
And maybe that’s the problem. Or maybe it’s the truth.
My back meets the wall. His hand finds mine, threading our fingers together, pinning it above my head. Every touch feels like a question we don’t have the answer to. My pulse hammers against his skin. The air smells like sweat, heat, and something sharp—like metal or adrenaline.
For once, I stop thinking. I let myself fall.
His name breaks from me like a secret, caught between breath and want.
And just like that, every reason to hold back burns away.
The world blurs into motion—fast, feverish, unstoppable. We stumble down the hall, hands everywhere, pulling, clutching, trying to erase the last few days with touch alone.
Leo’s mouth traces my neck, my shoulder, the curve of my collarbone, each kiss rougher than the last. My fingers dig into his back, desperate for something solid to hold onto. Every heartbeat feels louder than the next.
“Tell me if this is too much,” he whispers against my skin.
“It already is,” I breathe. “But don’t stop.”
He exhales something that sounds like relief and hunger all at once. The space between us disappears completely. We move like we’ve been here before, like muscle memory and emotion have fused into something neither of us can control.
The hallway light flickers, shadows spilling over us. Somewhere, the city hums outside—horns, wind, the faint vibration of life carrying on—but in here, everything is heat and noise and the frantic rhythm of two people trying to outrun the world.
He presses me against the wall again, forehead resting against mine, both of us breathing hard. “You sure?” he asks, even though his voice already knows the answer.
I nod once, and that’s all it takes.
The rest unravels slowly, inevitably. He murmurs my name once, twice, like it’s a promise he’s afraid to break.
Leo’s hands were everywhere, his touch branding me as he pressed me harder against the wall. His mouth devoured mine, his tongue demanding and fierce, tasting like desperation and need.
I moaned into his kiss, my fingers tangling in his dark blonde hair, pulling him closer as if I could fuse us together. His muscular body pinned me, his heat searing through my skin, and I arched into him, my breasts crushing against his chest.
“Fuck, Sage,” he growls against my lips, his breath hot and ragged. “You feel so good.” His hands slid down my waist, gripping my ass, lifting me until I was flush against him. I can feel his throbbing cock, hard and insistent, pressing into my core. I start to grind against him, aching for him. “I need you,” I pant, my voice raw and needy.
He doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he hoists me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me down the hall,our clothes falling in a trail behind us. The bedroom door slams shut, and he drops me onto the bed, his eyes dark and hungry, his blue gaze devouring me.
I am half-naked, my shirt gone, my bra barely holding on, and he is just as undone, his shirt discarded, his jeans unbuttoned, his cock straining against the fabric.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasps, kneeling on the bed between my legs. His mouth trail down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, sending shivers down my spine.
I arch my back, my hands gripping the sheets as he kisses his way down, his tongue tracing the curve of my breasts, teasing my nipples through the lace. I whimper, my hips bucking up, begging for more.
“Leo, please,” I beg, my voice thick with need. He smirks, his fingers hooking into my panties, tearing them off with a swift motion. I gasp, my legs falling open, exposing my wet, throbbing pussy to his gaze.
He groans, his thumb brushing my clit, his fingers dipping into my slick heat, teasing me, torturing me. “You’re so fucking wet for me,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl.
“Fuck me, Leo,” I demand, my hands pulling at his jeans, desperate to free his cock. He complies, his pants and boxers hitting the floor, his thick, hard length springing free. My mouth waters, and I reach for him, stroking him slowly, feeling his muscles tense under my touch. “Now,” I command, my voice sharp with urgency.
He doesn’t hesitate. He positions himself at my entrance, his eyes locked on mine, and thrust deep, filling me completely. I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders, my body tightening around him.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, his forehead resting against mine, his breath ghosting over my lips.
He begins to move, slow and deliberate at first, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through me. I meet his rhythm, my hips rising to greet him, my walls clenching around his cock. “Harder,” I demand, my voice a desperate plea.
