I lean in before I know I’m moving.The tiny space between us disappears, and suddenly his mouth is on mine—firm, warm, and tasting of something I can’t name but instantly want more of.
It isn’t gentle.He kisses like he already knows I’m going to let him, like we’ve been circling this forever.My hands fist his shirt before I can think about it, dragging him closer.
There’s a soft sound—his, mine, both—and then his thumb is pressing just under my jaw, coaxing me open.Everything inside me tilts.The city, the night, the ground, it all blurs until there’s only his mouth, his hand, and the steady, unshakable way he holds me like I’m something he’s not afraid to touch.
When we break apart, it’s barely an inch.He stays right there, breath mingling with mine, eyes searching my face like he’s cataloging every reaction.
“Yeah,” he whispers, lips brushing the word against me.“Knew it’d be like that.”
He says, “We should stop,” but his thumb is still brushing my lower lip, and my pulse is thundering too loud to hear anything but that.
Then his mouth is back on mine—no warning, no hesitation this time—and it’s rougher, hungrier, like we’ve both decided we’re done pretending restraint.
My fingers curl into his arm, dragging him closer, and his body comes up solid against mine, no space left.The wall at my back is cool and unyielding, which only makes every place he’s touching me burn hotter.
His hands are everywhere—my jaw, my shoulders, my hips—like he can’t decide where to hold me first.I feel the scrape of his teeth against my lip, and I gasp, and he swallows the sound like it belongs to him.
The kiss deepens until there’s no air, no thought, just heat and pressure and the pounding need to get closer.I can feel him breathing hard against my cheek, hear the low noise he makes when my fingers slip under the hem of his shirt to the warm skin beneath.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, voice ragged.
“Can’t,” I manage, because it’s true, I can’t even think about stopping, not when his heartbeat is hammering as wildly as mine, not when his mouth finds the corner of my jaw and traces lower.
His lips skim my throat, and my head tips back against the wall of its own accord.My hand drags up his spine, nails catching lightly, and he shudders.
Everything’s unraveling too fast, like a fuse burning down.
His mouth crashes back to mine, harder now, the kind of kiss you can’t walk away from.He palms the back of my head, holding me in place, while his other hand slides low, fingers digging into my hip through denim.
I hook an arm around his neck, pulling him flush against me.There’s no mistaking the heat between us now, no room for denial when I feel him hard and insistent through the thin barrier of our clothes.
“Bed,” I rasp against his lips.
“Can’t wait,” he mutters, and his hands are already under my shirt, rough palms skating over my ribs, dragging the fabric upward.The wall bites into my shoulders when he peels it off, and the cool air barely has time to hit my skin before his mouth is on me, tracing a line down my chest.
I fumble with his belt, frustrated at how my fingers shake, and he laughs low against my sternum, until I get it loose, and then his breath hitches.
The sound undoes me.I push his pants down just enough, shove mine out of the way, and we’re pressed together, skin to skin, heat sparking every nerve.
“God, you feel—” He breaks off, head tipping back as I wrap a hand around both of us, stroking slow and deliberate.His hips jerk helplessly, and he bites his lip like he’s trying to hold it together.
“Don’t,” I whisper.“Don’t hold back.”
His response is a growl, half-laugh, half-desperate sound, and then he’s got my wrist pinned above my head, his mouth devouring mine, his other hand gripping my hip as he grinds into me with raw, perfect friction.
The rhythm’s messy, frantic, more about sensation than precision.I’m gasping against his mouth, lost in the feel of his chest sliding against mine, the heat curling low in my stomach.
We’re both too far gone to last.I come first, sharp and shuddering, and he follows a heartbeat later, his forehead pressed to mine, breath ragged and uneven.
For a long moment, neither of us moves, still tangled together, hearts racing.Then he lets out a shaky laugh, kisses me softer this time, like he’s surprised and a little wrecked.
“Guess we’re past pretending,” he murmurs.
The room smells like sweat and cum, and something faint and expensive clinging to his collarbone.Whatever he’d been wearing before I’d pressed him flat into the mattress.The sheets are twisted low around our hips, sticky patches cooling on my chest.Neither of us seems in any hurry to move.
I drag a lazy fingertip down the ridge of his spine.“Are you always this generous with your room keys?”My voice comes out rough, like I’ve been shouting, which I guess I kind of was.
He laughs against my shoulder, quiet and warm.“Only when someone makes it worth the risk.”He shifts up, elbow propped, watching me with that sharp grin.“Figured you’d either show up or you wouldn’t.And if you did… I wanted the night to feel easy.”
