imarealistnotacynic: (Default)
𝓓𝓻. 𝓡𝓲𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓢𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭 ([personal profile] imarealistnotacynic) wrote in [personal profile] 11calls 2020-04-19 03:57 am (UTC)

[His gaze searches hers, finding truth. Maybe this was always building to this.

He wondered if they were both dead. If maybe this was some sort of strange take on heaven and hell that they were trapped in. If the world had ended. He feels wild and free and hungry for the first time in his life. Uncuffed. Unlocked.

His breathing slows. She wants this and she made mention of the times before. This stupid stubborn foolish girl. Cupping her cheek he takes off his glasses slowly, nosing at her. Then he lifts her easily in his arms. He's much more carved then he would be normally. He takes care of himself but now every muscle stands beneath his shirt.

Her bed is there and he throws her against the bed - as gently as he can before ripping his shirt off in one single movement, chest heaving, staring down at her.

His chest rises and falls, looking down at her before growling, pacing in a short circle before the bed leaning down to nose against her leg, lifting up her slowly, inches by inches. He is good at this. He has to be. His beard running across her skin.]

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