reader, reblogger, and writer of reader inserts. veteran selfshipper. unapologetic lover of jimmy mouthwashing.
multifandom. but be aware i operate on a special interest/hyperfixation model so i WILL focus on one single fandom and pretty much exclusively one single fandom at a time
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THIS BLOG CONTAINS 18+ CONTENT! While this blog is not solely dedicated to NSFW, I'm an adult and I reblog plenty of porn and talk about sex. I don't obsessively check my following list (and I was that teenager who read smut on tumblr) but PLEASE do NOT follow or interact with me if you are announcing the fact that you're a minor on your blog like a fool.
! CONTENT WARNING ! weird kinks and ~problematic content~ ahead. click here for more info and a list of tags to block
The guy was craving for anyone to talk to him, and you think he wouldn't just curl up immediately after getting cut out of the Lung, and sob for a few hours? Think again.
It would not have to be Grace for this to happen, is the funny thing. He would've been clinging to the closest person nearby just to make sure it was real, even if it was some grizzled old engineer or a lab tech standing nearby.
I think he got pushed past the breaking point of "this is weird and innapropriate and this person could apocalypse-shank me for this" a long time ago. Simon just needed someone.
Prev... because I do whump horror so often, let's take a break and explore Simon's other side for a minute. Have some post fix-it/characterization ideas!
Simon needing verbal reassurance when he gets nervous
Simon being a "sniff and don't think too hard about what you're eating" guy, but really wanting the chance to be a foodie
Simon getting creative and making stuff like ranger pudding out of random bullshit MREs to make them better
Simon never wanting to hurt another soul again. He'd rather die than be forced to be a weapon or fight
Simon having to sit down and teach himself the steps to pull himself out of a PTSD flashbacks, and he gets better at it, with time, all on his own, because he's intuitive and knows when enough is enough
Simon getting the chance to truly face the Shadowman and winning
Simon being a daydreamer and a head-in-the-clouds kind of guy (his optimism is why nobody likes him)
Simon being a hugger and a camaraderie kind of guy, but the Fear Of Getting Prison Shanked gets in the way of that often
Simon who has a great love of the little things in life
Simon who still believes the stars are out there somewhere
Simon who still believes there's good in bad people. Simon who trusts.
Simon who starts isolating when he feels an explosive episode ramp up, because he's trying to be better about doing it in front of people
Little spoon Simon !!
Simon who hopes, and who laughs
Simon who needs lots of instruction in order to function sometimes (being raised to be a tool can cause independence problems)
Simon who apologizes at the little things and fumbles like an idiot
Simon who pays attention
Simon who is loyal to his moral compass
Simon who isn't shy of voicing his annoyances. Simon who speaks his mind and bitches and snarks at people
Simon who never passes up an opportunity for a good joke
Simon who has to face the idea that the God placed itself in him, in some way, and knowing that he is fundamentally changed, and still trying to be human in a world full of monsters
dont store a knife with the point facing down, it damages the blade. no, dont do that either. when you store it with the point facing up you might accidentally hurt yourself when you try to grab it. dont store a knife at all actually. your blade must never leave your hand, always ready, ruthless and waiting. you know deep down that ever since you learned the stench of blood you will never be able to cast it aside. or just get a sheath for it i guess.
Follows on from Kiss, Gloves and Lips / can be read as a stand-alone fic
∘₊✧ Summary: Driver pulls up outside your place with a plan. He intends to kiss you and eat you out without coming in his pants - because he wants to come in you this time.
∘₊✧ Authors notes: We love a premature ejaculation story over here at ken-dom dot tumblr dot com, and we also love a filthy, needy Driver with unsettling habits, so I pulled out some of my favourite tropes and hope this scratches a good bit of the Driver itch ;) title from the soundtrack
∘₊✧ Content: nsfw, masturbation, in public (empty street at night in his car solo, a desolate location with reader), kissing, oral (Driver giving), glove kink, cream pie, premature ejaculation, slightly unsettling and/or creepy thoughts and behaviours
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He’d thought about it nonstop. Every waking moment since your last date, driving through the night together, your lips wrapped so warm and wet around him, the way you looked so pleased with yourself, pleased with him…
The longer he thought on it, the more he felt this indescribable burning urge to show you what he was really capable of. He was sure could make you breathless, make your toes curl, make you see stars… more than he already had.
As much as you seemed to like the idea of him cumming in his jeans, untouched, while you made out or while his fingers were buried inside you, he wanted more than anything to take things up a notch.
So he took matters into his own hands, quite literally, and pulled up outside your house five minutes early. Far enough away from your window that you wouldn’t spot him and come out to meet him early, too.
He was already hard in his jeans when he turned the key in the ignition, plunging the car into silence and the street around him into darkness. He took off his watch and carefully fastened his watch to the steering wheel with steady but eager hands.
Four minutes left until he was supposed to pick you up.
Checking the rear view and side mirrors with shrewd eyes, he unzipped his jeans. A slightly shakier hand slipped inside, familiar gloved fingers wrapping around his already dripping length and stroking fast.
He could feel his release approaching in waves after only a few pumps of his fist, while he switched from watching your front door to the time ticking by until the second you’d step out of it.
Three minutes.
Driver stiffened. Your drapes moved. He slowed his hand, the toothpick wedged between his teeth twitching upward between his clenched teeth.
A swift sensation of relief swept through his gut; you were only glancing out to see if he was here yet, but you couldn’t see him, partially obstructed behind a tree in the darkness, so you left the window, letting the drapes fall back into place.
Driver spills then, hot and fast, hips rutting up to meet the pumping of his fist as he drops forward, bracing himself with one hand tightening around the steering wheel as he shoots his release up over his jacket.
His jacket? Fuck.
He breathes through it. It’s dark where you’re going, you probably won’t notice. He smirks. Even if you do notice, knowing you, you’ll probably think it’s hot.
One minute.
Still breathless, he hurriedly tucks himself back into his jeans and straightens himself up, the last few seconds on the watch disappearing into the past as he tries to snap out of his post orgasm haze.
He turns the key to bring the engine back on and steps out onto the street on slightly shaky legs, to lean against his car.
He’s still fiddling with fastening his watch back onto his wrist when you appear in your doorway.
You smile over at him as you lock up and his heart jumps in his chest. You look so good. So fucking good. And you’ve been so eager for him to arrive, looking out of the window, noticing him before he had a chance to knock. Oh, just you wait.
As is usual, Driver doesn’t speak when you greet him, he just locks his eyes on yours and his lips twitch up into a lopsided smile.
You smile back. ‘Hi.’
And then he pins you to the passenger side, lips firm and commanding on yours for just a moment before he reaches around to unlatch the door and guide you in.
He smirks to himself again as he makes his way back around to the driver’s side, smug. Although he feels a little twitch in his jeans from your kiss, he’s able to ignore it well enough that it doesn’t take hold. So far so good.
As the car pulls away from the curb, you slip a warm hand over his, fingers intertwining on the stick shift.
Driver swallows hard, pressing his foot down and focussing intensely on the road. He wants to get where he’s taking you faster.
The warm glow of the streetlights cast shadows over his handsome face, alternating between angelic illumination and something a little more… sinister. You watch him more than what’s passing outside the car. You have no idea where you are, or where he’s taking you, and you don’t care. You’ll go anywhere with him.
He pulls up slowly in a secluded spot that sinks you into moonlit darkness. There’s nothing around. No streetlights, no other cars. Nothing.
Before you can lean across to initiate another kiss, he’s stepping out, stalking around to your side of the car with purpose in his step. For a moment you’re not sure if he’s coming to escort you somewhere private to make out or somewhere secluded where no one will hear your scream.
He opens your door and offers you a hand and leads you around to the bonnet, snaking his arms around your back and lowering you to the hood before tossing his toothpick to the floor.
He pauses then, just gazing at you all beautiful, splayed out over the hood of his car just for him… he clenches his fingers into a fist, the leather squeaking as he releases them. He’s so glad he came early.
After sufficiently taking you in, he steps toward you and gently grips your ankles, spreading your legs to settle himself between them, leans over, pins you down, and closes his lips over yours.
It’s dangerously possessive, needy even, and you vaguely wonder if he’s hard yet, leaking into his jeans like he usually is by this time in the evening.
The thought vanishes, though, when he pins one of your arm above your head and trail kisses down your exposed throat.
You writhe beneath him and he chuckles under his breath.
Pausing, he watches your face closely while the fingers of his free hand ghost between your thighs.
‘Yeah?’ he breathes against your swollen lips, and you nod.
‘Yeah.’
There’s a moment then, his eyes burning into yours that feels like it lasts forever. Your core clenches at the intensity of his gaze and he lets out a steadying breath.
‘Get comfortable,’ he breathes, letting go of the arm he’d pinned down.
You slide up a little further to prop yourself up on your elbows as he stands and takes his time unfastening your pants and slipping them off with your underwear, admiring every inch of you with those tender gloved hands until your bare skin shivers against the cool night air.
He stands motionless then as his eyes trail over your hips, your glistening folds, your bare, spread legs,
He licks his lips unconsciously and reaches to slide off his jacket.
‘Leave it on,’ you breathe, and you swear you see something glitter in his eyes.
He can feel the pull of arousal deep in his core again. He’s lasted this long. He can get through the rest. Right?
He traces his fingers over your ankles before grasping them again, pushing them up until your knees are bent and you’re completely exposed to him.
Slowly, he lowers himself to the hood and dips between your thighs, licking a slow, bold stripe through your folds.
He feels the tremble it sends through your body and does it again, and again, before focusing in on that bundle of nerves he knows will cause fireworks if he treats it just right.
Your thighs close around his head, his tongue circling so delicately you almost sob with pleasure, and as if it isn’t overwhelming enough, his still gloved fingers tease at your entrance, slipping one inside and curling just right until your back arches and your head drops back.
He slips his free arm over your hips to keep you still, and he almost moans at the fight he has to keep your hips from rutting against him.
Every moan you let out, every breath laced with a whine of bliss, sends a shockwave of sparks to his core. He feels his cock twitch again, stronger this time, and completely helpless in the confines of his denim, the taut fabric giving him just enough friction to finally moan into your pussy. But not quite enough to get off again. Not quite yet… he really should jerk off outside your place before a date more often if it helps him last this long.
He eats you faster, feeling the way you’re shuddering, pleased with himself that he hasn’t had to give in yet despite the way this feels like kissing times one thousand, the way you taste, the way you’re reacting…
The feeling between his thighs begins to grow. He’s recovered enough to get hard, and he can’t stop it from happening.
You cry out into the night, so close he can taste it, and he knows no one can hear you screaming out here, which sends another thrill right to his cock.
Shit. He’s hard.
He doesn’t know if he can hold it very much longer, not with you about to come undone on his tongue.
It’s all too much, too intense now, and just before you’re about to cry his name and let him feel your release, he pushes himself up face to face with you, clumsily unzips his jeans, and pushes his length inside you with a low, almost inaudible growl.
His jaw slackening and eyes rolling back tells you he’s ready to come, but he’s fighting it with all he has.
He stills, clenches his jaw, tries to focus on you. On your pleasure.
He’s prepared you so well, though, that you’re not far behind and he feels you clenching around him, your nails clawing at his jacket.
You pull him as close as you can manage at this angle to whisper words of complete relief in his ear; ‘Come for me.’
And that does just that. He crushes his lips to yours, arms closing tight around your body as he pulls back and slams his hips into you, fucking into you so hard and fast you cry out again, strangled, and with the sound ringing in his ears, he fills you with his hot release at the exact moment your own orgasm takes hold and squeezes every last drop from him. He'll never forget the way it feels to be buried in you like this, however brief.
He collapses on top of you, legs too weak to pull out just yet, and you hold him to your chest, feeling him tremble as he comes down from the high.
Eventually he manages to crawl down enough to pull his jeans back into place and stand weakly, completely awed at the sight of you, still spread for him, spent, his seed dripping onto your thigh. He could keep you like this forever.
He guides you up with him and helps you to dress, then wraps his arms around you again as you sit up against the bonnet. Slowly, he kisses you with the most gentle pressure you’d ever known. It wasn’t a passionate, hungry kiss, it was a thank you.
‘Wanna come to my place?’ he asks, voice cracking half way. You’re not sure whether it’s nerves or exhaustion.
You nod. ‘Yeah. Yeah I do.’
He averts his eyes and breathes a disbelieving sigh.
You hop off the hood to take the passenger seat, ready to disappear into the LA night with him once again.
Summary: Driver has fantasised about kissing you for so long that when it finally happens his arousal becomes overwhelming
Author’s notes: I couldn’t stop thinking about the headcanon that he gets off to the thought of kissing, which is both my own headcanon, and which I’ve read in almost every Driver fic and headcanon post I’ve seen. So of course I wrote my own a little drabble about it...
I originally posted this to my main blog but I'm re-posting all my work here to have everything in one place due to an unresolved tagging issue on my main
Warnings/content: nsfw — smut, gn!reader, kissing, making out, premature ejaculation, hinted handjob, voyeurism, mention of masturbation, glove kink
At first it wasn’t clear who started it. It was most likely you, when you plucked the toothpick from between his teeth, biting your lip as you eyed him. At some point, you’d leant into each other and each pushed the other back in equal measures. It blurred in the haze of rapture.
There came a clear change when you thrust a hand up into his soft hair and he dropped back against the sofa cushions, naturally pulling you with him.
While he melted into the cushions your thighs naturally straddled his, and your bodies pressed flush together in such a way that he began to tremble at the contact.
The only sound was the combination of his ragged breathing and your steady panting, slipping out between satisfied, crashing lips, breath hot against each others mouths between needy kisses. Until your tongue pushed into his mouth.
Your hands ran from his hair, stroked at his throat and glided over his chest.
His heart raced. He wondered if you’d be able feel it beating through his ribcage as you touched him.
He hoped you were feeling the same thrill that he was.
The same electricity tingling through your nerves, the same heat rushing to pool between your thighs, the same desperate need to be kissed so intensely, so deeply, that you wouldn't remember to breathe.
He couldn’t think about it for too long though; your mouth on his was hot and wet and soft and firm and tender and a thousand times better than the fantasy he’d spent far too many lonely nights replaying and perfecting.
It was too much and it wasn’t enough. He was dizzy and he was floating. And he was simmering already, his cock throbbing painfully inside his jeans, slick with precum and pressing, hot and hard, against your body.
One little shift of your hips and-
‘Ohh... ughhhh-’
All it took was a single moan. One quiet, sensual moan from you.
It was mostly swallowed by his mouth and vibrated against his tongue, and as he felt it, as he heard it, he spilled uncontrollably into his underwear, cock twitching through the aching bliss of feeling so incredibly turned on, untouched yet finding release.
It wouldn’t be the first time he’d felt this way. He'd been embarrassingly horny before, but he'd been alone then. And if he was alone now, simply watching you from a distance or playing out this fantasy in his mind, he could easily slip his hand down inside his jeans and bring himself off, hard and fast, the leather of his driving gloves fooling his brain just enough to believe it could be your hand.
In this moment though — this real moment — he had wanted to take his time with you. He would seriously need to learn how to pace himself if he was going to be able to satisfy you. This wouldn't do at all.
But for now, it was too late. Fuck. The strength of his orgasm overtook any rational thought and a low, guttural groan pierced your kiss, his fingertips suddenly driving hard into your flesh as he held your hips still against his twitching cock.
God, it was better than any fantasy. He’d never replicate this feeling again on his own. Not without your kiss. And as he came down from his peak, his cheeks turning red, he supposed there wouldn’t be a next time.
But you moaned again. Louder this time, playfully biting and sucking at his bottom lip and lapping at his tongue.
You liked it? You liked that he couldn’t control himself long enough to get through a simple kiss without cumming in his pants like a horny teenager? That this was his fantasy? That more than bending you over his car or fucking up into your pretty mouth from the drivers seat, he wanted to feel your tongue slide against his?
Fuck.
Your fingers began to work his jeans open and a flash of panic struck him in the gut. Maybe you hadn’t realised, but you soon would, slipping your unsuspecting hand into his underwear, wet through with a generous helping of his cum before you'd even tried to touch him.
Ah. Relief. You'd not broken the kiss and as you prepared to touch him, he felt the familiar pulls of arousal once again.
Familiar, but with the added sensation of his cock still tender with the aftershocks of his all too recent release.
You sighed as your fingers wrapped around his hardening length, pleased with what you found.
☾. ݁ Summary: Whatever's going on with Driver, you know can bring him back to you. It just takes a night on the hood of his car to clear his mind.
☾. ݁ Notes: Heavily based on this and this, written for the fabulous @cosmicyeehaw as a thank you for agreeing to draw my beloved Lars in her delicious watermelon series!
☾. ݁ Content: nsfw, blow job (Driver receiving), mentions of reader receiving oral sex, Driver is dark and mysterious, little bit of angst, blood, mentioned kissing kink and premature ejaculation (it's me what do you expect), slightly creepy location, in public (at night in a deserted area)
The cool night air whips through the crack where the window’s rolled down, shivers creeping across your shoulders as you roll it back up. The weather doesn’t change much in Los Angeles, but there’s a definite chill in the air tonight. It creates a sort of longing… the last of summer clinging in your memories as the urge to snuggle into him, warm and safe, takes over.
You’re usually in the passenger seat for this journey, and your eyes aren’t ever on the road when you’re sitting beside him, but a sliver of moonlight shines on an entrance you think you recognise, almost like it’s a sign from him. So, feeling semi-confident, your fingers tighten on the steering wheel and you pull the car into the dry LA River.
The drive doesn’t feel as long when you’re beside him and you wonder if you’ve somehow made a mistake, but before long, your headlights illuminate the familiar dark mass of leaves covering a hidden stream in the near distance.
Biting anxiously at your lip, your stomach begins to sink as you slow the car. He’s not here. There’s a sound somewhere close by. Probably an animal. You shudder, glancing around what you can see of the pitch dark shrubbery, but you don’t fancy sticking around to find out. It feels different here when you’re with him. Safe, thrilling. Alone, it’s kind of creepy.
As you swing the car around to leave, your headlights catch something glinting under the shadows of overhanging branches. There he is.
Driver’s cloaked in complete darkness, parked up in a hidden spot where the dry river bed ends and the patch of shrubs and trees begins, almost undetectable at night. But you’d recognise that silhouette anywhere; his slender denim clad legs, the gentle puff of his scorpion jacket hugging his slight torso, his short, soft hair, and that nose. God, that perfect, sexy, handsome nose.
He’s sitting against the hood of his car fiddling with the fastenings on his gloves and chewing a toothpick as you shine your beam onto him. He doesn’t flinch at the sudden illumination, just turns his head in your direction and glares back as you kill the lights, then the engine, and step out.
He watches in silence as you approach, slipping off his gloves and flattening his hands down on the hood by his sides.
As you move closer you see a splatter of something dark around the bottom of his jacket, stark and obvious against the cream satin. You wonder if it’s his blood or someone else’s, but you won’t ask.
‘I hoped I’d find you here,’ you say quietly, perching beside him. ‘I’ve missed you.’
He doesn’t answer, eyes intense on yours as he pulls the toothpick from between his teeth.
‘Are you okay?’ you ask, pressing a cool palm to his warm cheek.
He leans into it and closes his eyes, taking a beat before nodding. You know it’s a lie, but he will do anything to make you feel safe with him.
‘What do you need?’
His eyes open at that, cheek still flush against your hand. His sparkling blue eyes look darker tonight somehow as they glance across at you from under their heavy lids.
He closes them again and pushes forward to place the most careful, gentle kiss to your lips. It’s brief, soft and lingers after he pulls away. For such a tender kiss, it takes your breath away.
He always manages to take your breath away.
His eyes are back on you then, pleading, and you know all he needs is to bask in the comfort of your presence, your touch.
‘Why didn’t you come to me?’ you breathe, voice cracking. You already know the answer.
As his eyes slip closed in shame, you dive forward to lift his face back to you and continue the kiss, a little more heated this time.
Your tongue glides over his bottom lip and he moans as he parts them to let you in.
His knuckles are white where he’s gripping the hood, arms clamped to his sides as you crawl onto his lap and push him back, slowly laying him down between gentle scrapes of teeth and delicate laps of tongues.
You actually feel him relax beneath you; the engine’s still warm and his tired muscles ache a little less for the heat of it.
His arms wrap around you, hands exploring as the kiss deepens.
You feel his arousal, pressing hard into your thigh as you straddle him, the already damp denim telling you he’s more than ready.
Pulling back for breath you look down at him, his beautiful face flushed with heat, neat hair coming loose in a few places, lips kiss-swollen and pupils blown wide. He’s panting, silently begging for you. Even in the shadows, he’s beautiful.
‘Stay right where you are,’ you whisper, feeling the chill hit you as you climb down, the cool concrete biting at your knees as you kneel at his feet.
His jacket has ridden up with the shirt beneath it, exposing a delicious expanse of soft skin. Your lips are drawn to it like a magnet, and as they meet his sensitive flesh, he jolts upward a little, a strangled little groan echoing around the empty space.
‘Shhh,’ you soothe him, placing gentle hands on his thighs, ‘I’ve got you. It’s alright.’
Driver whimpers.
Bringing your hands down to his knees, his legs fall apart easily and you fit yourself between them, leaving a wet trail of kisses over his belly.
His hips buck slightly and you pull back to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, your hands steady as he trembles with anticipation beneath them. He isn’t wearing underwear and his cock immediately springs free of the tight confines.
You’ve been in his position plenty; he’d drive you here in the desolate night, make out until you were both breathless, lay you on the hood of his car and dip between your thighs. You’d stare up at the stars and come undone on his tongue with your fingers in his hair and your legs thrown over his shoulders.
Tonight though, you know Driver needs you to take the lead and you’re more than willing to do it, to help him find his way back to you.
He hums, low and deep, as your fingers wrap around his aching length and pump slowly, pearls of steadily leaking precum making the movement slick. You swipe your thumb over the sensitive tip, and his legs shake at your sides, quiet whines filling the air around you, almost inaudible.
You know it’s likely he won’t last much longer. You know how he works; he can get off just by getting you off. Hell, one time in the early days he got off just from kissing you. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s eager and he’s grateful; he’ll take whatever you’re prepared to give him.
But you need tonight to be earth shattering. Whatever he’s feeling, whatever is going on in his mind and in the part of his life he keeps you safe from, you want to silence it all, even if only for a few blissful moments.
With your lips pressed to his heat you suckle lightly, the saltiness of his skin pleasantly sharp on your tongue, and his fingers dart to tangle in your hair.
A strangled little noise catches in his throat then as you flatten your tongue, licking him steadily from base to tip before taking him into your mouth.
It’s overwhelming, the chill of the fall night air against his exposed stomach, the heat of the metal beneath him, and the warm, wet, familiar home of your mouth taking him soft and slow.
He shudders against the hood, biting into his fist as the fingers tangled in your hair tighten, not exactly controlling your movements but immersing himself in them, feeling them.
The hypnotising bobbing of your head begins to blur his vision as he tries to focus, tries to memorise the sensations, each and every one, and he tries to calm his breathing. His chest is rising and falling rapidly as he loses control, and tries to make this last just a little longer.
You know he’s up there wishing your lips could be on his mouth while he feels this good everywhere else, probably replaying your last kiss in his mind while his hot, needy cock throbs against your tongue.
Driver’s hips stutter up to meet your movements then, and his back arches as he writhes against the car, his head falling back with a dull thud.
You’re doing it. You’re quietening the overwhelming noise in his mind, turning it to faint static with every lap of your tongue, every hollow of your cheeks.
Bobbing your head faster, Driver sobs out a series of little whines. It’s hungry and pathetic and it makes your core clench with need for him, and for a moment you consider riding him but it’s too late for that.
You can’t help but moan, the subtle vibration around his cock sending him crashing over the edge.
He thrashes above you, low clanking sounds of the hood bouncing off the concrete around you, cut only with a guttural cry that tears from his chest.
His spend fills your mouth, hot and thick, and you just keep going until he’s softening between your lips, seeing him through the aftershocks of his release as he lays breathless and weak on the hood.
His hand drops from where it had gripped your hair, and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand you sit back on your heels to admire your work.
He looks so vulnerable like this, so small, panting and trembling, exposed across the front of his own car, out here in the middle of nowhere, his soft cock out and twitching from the strength of his orgasm.
You could watch him like this forever, it’s deviously delicious. But you take mercy on him, tucking him back into his damp jeans and carefully fastening him back up before crawling onto the warm hood to lay beside him.
As you settle, he turns his head to look at you, eyes burning into yours while a trace of a smile pulls at one corner of his lips.
He’s sated, he’s warm, and most importantly, here, right now, with you, he’s safe.
‘I can wash your jacket,’ you whisper. ‘And your jeans.’
He blinks his gaze away, biting his lips together as he blushes at the mess he made of himself.
‘How long do we have?’ you ask, voice quiet and a little sad.
His hand slips into yours. No matter how many times he does that, it always feels as sensual and intimate as stripping yourself bare and having his hands all over your body, somehow.
‘At least tonight,’ he says, voice cracking into a higher pitch halfway.
You stare up at the night sky, the stars shining brightly through the leaves of the overhanging branches.
‘I’ll come with you,’ you say. It’s not a question. ‘I need you. And I think you need me, too.’
