the opening of 7x15 “a thin line” is such a hard watch knowing they kill off a little girl and a 6 month old baby before the title card has a chance to show
Loki: So, you're the one they call Venison...
Venom: Venom.
Loki: Yes, of course. They tell me you're having trouble controlling that disgusting creature...
Venom: I struggle sometimes when I get upset, but I can control the Symbiote.
Loki: Oh, I apologize. I was actually speaking to the Symbiote, and calling you disgusting. How embarrassing...
I’m a bitch so #1, but make it Asshole Jonerys, hee hee. 😈
AWW YEAH Back on our favorite set of assholes, let’s fucking GOOOOO!
1. “Squeeze three times for I love you.”
Jon and Dany in the universe of A Thin Line
Dany is ready for the end to come.
Because she’s absolutely certain that there’s nothing worse than her current situation: sitting in an normally-unused conference room with the rest of the sales staff, including the Prince of Darkness, one Jon Snow.
“Who chose this bloody movie?” Her harsh whisper goes unanswered, but by her side, she can hear Jon shifting in his chair.
On the screen affixed to the wall, some absolutely preposterous movie plays, the alleged heroine simpering at the male lead, their hands clasped tight between them, and if one of them is going to die she wishes they would fucking hurry up already.
“Squeeze three times for I love you,” the woman says, her eyes wide and stricken, and inwardly she cheers as the man looks seconds away from death.
She makes a loud noise, as though she’s vomiting, met by a chorus of loud shushes from her co-workers.
Ugh. What a bunch of useless soft touches they are. That’s why they’ll never outsell her, why she will always tower above them, even though most are a head taller than her.
A hand drops to her thigh, where her stocking-clad leg meets the hem of her skirt. He dares too much, sometimes, but she can privately admit that his audacity is one of the things that keeps her coming back.
This is a new development, though, and the room is dark enough that she will let this play out, see how far he’s willing to go surrounded by these sorry excuses for salesmen.
While they have admitted that it’s not JUST hatred that fuels them, they have not yet done anything physical in town. It’s been road-only, ‘til now, but apparently Jon is ready to change that.
“It’s absolutely disgusting, isn’t it?” His soft murmur sounds surprisingly close to her ear, and he’s leaning casually on his hand, elbow propped atop the table, his other preoccupied as his index finger slips under her skirt.
“Ludicrous,” she spits back, glaring at Theon when he whips his head around to glare at her. She raises her middle finger at him, waving it tauntingly until he turns around. “Oh my god, he’s crying.”
Jon says nothing, his eyes dropping to the sliver of her lap that he can see, the rest covered by the heavy wood of the lacquered table. “Pathetic,” he whispers, his breath humid on the shell of her ear, then she hears his quick intake of breath, as his fingers slide higher, meeting bare skin and the strap of a garter. She grins to herself, and uncrosses her legs, allowing him access if he decides to push things further.
She does wonder, though, if he will. He is a pompous, self-absorbed asshole, that’s certain, but perhaps he’s not exactly an exhibitionist.
She feels the scape of his teeth against her earlobe. “What’s this, hmm?”
Dany hears several muted sobs from the surrounding people, but she can’t hear what’s happening on screen anymore, far too distracted by what she’s going to goad him into doing to her to pay attention to this garbage movie for one more second.
“I think you know,” she whispers back, and turns her head, their lips only centimeters apart. “I dare you to get me off right here, right now.”
“And what’s in it for me?” He quirks a brow at her, scowling slightly, giving a quick check around before his eyes lock with hers again.
She turns his head with her fingers, her lips just glancing against his ear. “I’ll suck your cock in your office later, while you’re sitting in your desk chair.”
Another quick inhale and he nods. “Deal.”
His fingers graze her inner thigh, inches from where she needs them, and she settles back in her seat, finally enjoying herself for once.
She certainly doesn’t want to get caught, and she knows her own tendency for reacting to his touch makes it a possibility, but she likes a challenge.
(Hayffie ❤️🔥. NSFW. A lot of angsty sexual content, per the prompt. I don’t see Haymitch and Effie taking their trauma histories out on one another with intention. I see them arguing often and getting off on their volatile chemistry. I see them loving each other with ferocity, tender care, playfulness, and a mix of selfishness and devotion which they both struggle to balance. I responded to the prompt with this character analysis in mind. This was exhausting to write and really stretched me.)
***
ONE
“The last word. YOU think I always have to have the last word?!”
“EVERY argument. You walk away mutttering it under your breath or saying it in your head!”
“How could you know what’s in my head, and how is that even having the last word?!”
“I just KNOW. And it just IS!”
“Why shouldn’t I have the last word when you take ALL the others?”
“I don’t take ALL the others. You’re talking right now!”
“Because you’re arguing with me about arguing. For once, would you just shut up.”
“Ha! Like THAT’S going to happen. ...Try and make me.”
Her words were a dare. He picked her up and draped her over his shoulder with his arms around her legs and a hand on her ass.
“Haymitch! This is barbaric.” She squirmed without conviction.
He flopped her onto the bed, and she landed face up alongside the pillows. In a huff, she propped up on her elbows. He rested his palm on her chest.
“WHAT do you think you’re doing?”
“Be still, sweetheart.” He caressed along her sternum until she lay back. He pulled off his shirt and unzipped his pants.
“You told me to ‘shut up,’ and now you want sex?”
He inched up her dress and brushed his fingers over her panties. For a moment everything stopped except his fingertips. “Got any objections?”
She shook her head ‘no.’ “Be careful, honey. Don’t snag the lace.”
Controlling as ever.
He considered doing that just to spite her, but had a better idea. He let go and walked to the foot of the bed.
“You’re leaving NOW!?”
He moved around the other side to where her head draped slightly over the edge. She gazed up at him with fiery uncertainty, and he dropped his pants.
“So you’re not leaving...”
This time he was the one to shake his head. Without a word, he turned her onto her stomach, unzipped her dress, then rolled her back.
“I said be careful... I’m not a rag doll!”
“Shhh.” He knelt on the floor and kissed her forehead as he peeled the bodice of her dress down to her waist. Her corset cupped below her breasts, leaving them mostly exposed.
He stood up and slid his hands down from her collarbones. “Mmm... I like this one.”
“I can tell.” With her head tilted back, his dick hovered near her mouth. “You think this is going to *shut me up*?”
“Depends.”
She took the tip between her lips, swirled her tongue around him, then let go. This was HER game, and she wanted him to know it. He stifled a groan, trying not to seem too invested in this.
“You want to go deep and come in my throat?”
Fuck, yes. “Are you gonna bite my dick off if I do?”
“Only if you’re not pleasuring me too. Don’t make me do it myself.”
“We’ll see...” He followed the stays of her corset over her stomach, and slipped a hand inside her panties.
In one fluid motion, she sucked him beyond the back of her throat.
“Oh, fuck.” He thrust once. Sure he’d been angry when they’d started this, but he didn’t want to choke her. Not like this anyway.
She reached for his hips, and encouraged him to keep going.
“Jesus, Effie...” He’d never been so deep in anybody’s mouth before.
He dipped his fingers in her and stroked with his thumb. The sound she made vibratied around him, and his pace quickened in response.
Is this alright? He might have thought to ask, but the feeling of her mouth was too much for thought.
His touch was primal, instinctual. She lifted her hips and swelled like the tide. She was already close.
He held the edge between wanting to make this last and needing release. He held it as tightly as the knife he clutched in sleep. He was so alive with her. So goddamn alive.
***
TWO
“Are you seeing her?” Effie asked about the dark haired woman whose eyes had been fixed on them in the market.
Haymitch took a bite of supper, answering slowly and without evasion. “Sometimes.”
“How often?”
“Why does it matter? You see other people, and I don’t ask about ‘em.”
“You don’t ask because you don’t want to know.”
“You’re right. I don’t wanna know.” Whenever he thought about some other guy’s hands on her body, he couldn’t even see straight.
“Well, I want to know.”
Shit. This conversation wasn’t going anywhere good. “...A few times a month maybe.”
She recognized he probably spent more time with that girl than he did with her. Living 2000 miles apart kept getting harder.
“Where do you *see* her?”
“Her place, mostly.”
Effie set down her fork, having lost her appetite. “You sleep there?”
“You know I don’t.”
“Does she sleep here?”
“Why are you asking questions when you know you’re not gonna like the answers?”
Imagining him in other women’s homes was maddening enough, but it was a knife in her chest to picture them in this place where SHE hung curtains, and swept out dust and goose feathers, and drank coffee, and ate supper, and had sex in front of the fireplace... and in his bed — their bed.
“Does she sleep here?!” She needed to hear it.
“Sometimes.”
Her cheeks flushed with rage. “Do you fall asleep with her?!”
“You KNOW I don’t!”
“I don’t want her here.” The words came out quiet, like lava seeping from a volcano before the whole mountain explodes.
“That’s not your call. I don’t get a say about what dicks come and go from YOUR place.”
“Do you even want a say?!”
He didn’t want any of those men there, but what would it mean to admit that? “Shit, honey, I don’t know.”
“How do you not know! How does it feel picturing me having sex with someone else?”
“I’m NOT gonna picture that, and I don’t wanna talk about how I FEEL!” His tone was mocking.
She pushed her chair back from the table and unhooked the top of her sweater. It was a soft thing, pale blue like the sky, made from rabbit fur and tiny pearl buttons.
“What are you doing?”
She unfastened the rest, and her sweater gaped open. There was nothing underneath except her. Her skin, her body.
“How does it feel picturing me doing this with someone else?”
She was pressing him to a place where his mind didn’t want to go. If she weren’t so intoxicating, he’d tell her to fuck off.
She moved from her chair and straddled his lap in a flowy skirt that she often wore around the house. He pushed the table forward and slid his hands up her back.
“And how does it feel picturing someone else doing this with me?”
“I HATE it,” he surrendered, resting his forehead against her neck and caressing every inch of her beneath the sweater. This is MY girl. She’s mine. ...And I can’t stop it.
Effie reached for the pins that held her hair up in a twist. When she slipped them out, her hair fell to her shoulders.
“What are you doing to me?” he pleaded.
“I’m gonna fuck you, honey. So good that it’ll make you forget about her. Because I HATE picturing her doing this with you.”
“Stop talking about her.” He threaded his fingers in Effie’s hair and drew her into a kiss. She melted into his mouth, letting the connection be for a moment whatever he needed.
She held his face and slid her thumbs to the pulse at the sides of his throat. The most terrifying aspects of intimacy are the things we can’t hide, even when we want to. His heart was thrumming.
He broke the kiss to tell her what she already knew. “You make me crazy.”
She tugged up his shirt, and he let her strip it off so he could feel her breasts against him.
She opened his pants and freed him. He reached up her skirt and slid her thong to the side. She stood on tiptoes to shift her position in his lap, then came down hard and he slipped inside her.
God... The first thrust was always the best. Reunion.
She sighed nonsensical words, growing louder as she fucked him. There was an urgency about it. He made her want things she wasn’t ready for. “Crazy...” she echoed, “I feel it.”
He gripped her ass and rocked with her. The insistence was real, bordering on desperation. “Oh, hell. I want a say. I say nobody. ...Nobody but you and me, sweetheart.”
The mountain shattered in the words.
***
THREE
“We aren’t leaving until you change that shirt.”
“I’ll wear what I damn well please.”
“The collar is frayed, and it’s missing a button.”
“A missing button? For Christ sake, it must be the apocalypse.”
“I REFUSE to be seen in public with you wearing that old thing! Take it off.”
Haymitch plopped down on the couch. “Going out was your idea anyway. If you want it off, then YOU take it off.”
She moved behind the sofa and slid her fingers along the back of his neck. Whenever she did that, his eyes closed like those plastic dolls she’d played with as a child. She enjoyed the subtle power. She traced along the frayed edge of the collar and unhooked the top few buttons. Grasping the shirt on both sides, she yanked it apart.
His eyes shot open as the cloth ripped and buttons scattered on the floor. “What the hell?!”
“Oops.” Her tone oozed sarcasm as she played over his chest like piano keys.
“I LIKED that shirt.” He seethed.
“I’ve bought you at least a dozen decent shirts. Go put on one of those.”
“Fine.” He stood up and made as if to head to the bedroom. Then he scooped her up, dropped her onto the couch, hopped over it and straddled her.
“Haymitch! That shirt was an affront to fashion. I did you a favor.” She tried to wriggle her pelvis out from under him. When the pressure started feeling good, she moved more deliberately at a slower pace.
He kept time with her movements. “I could do YOU a favor...”
“We’ll miss our reservation...” Her protest was unconvincing.
He traced the neckline of her dress. It was V shaped and dipped low between her breasts. The dress was one of her favorites. He positioned himself more directly against the soft flesh below her pubic bone. “I can be quick, honey.”
“I know...” Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted more, and unfastened his pants.
He slipped his fingers into her dress. No corset. ...Even better. He yanked the fabric, and the bodice ripped open. Her gaping mouth was a match.
“Was that quick enough?”
“Damn you! This is SATIN! I loved this dress!”
“I like it better now.” He unhooked the front clasp of her bra and folded it open.
Her heart beat up her neck, igniting fire in her cheeks. “Am I supposed to thank you for not defiling my bra too?”
Effie’s breasts were timeless things that really hadn’t aged in the years he’d been looking at them. He wanted them in his mouth, but he couldn’t do that unless he was willing to let her move.
“You started this, sweetheart. You want me to finish it?” He brushed his thumbs across her nipples.
She was angry about the dress, but she had indeed been the one to initiate the clothing massacre. “...I suppose it would be a shame to waste a ruined dress...”
“I’m gonna get up. Don’t move. Since I killed your dress, I don’t trust you not to rip something else off me.”
She laughed. “Afraid I might wax hair off places you want to keep it?”
“Wax anything off my body, and ALL your dresses will be dead.”
“Truce?” She unzipped his pants.
When he got off of her, she drew her dress up to her waist and slipped off her panties.
“What? Don’t trust me not to rip those too?” He grinned.
“Will you shut up and fuck me?”
“Only because you asked so *nice*.” He kicked off his pants and eased onto her, into her.
“Make me come fast, and we might still make that reservation.”
With the reservation in mind, he planned to do this as slowly as possible.
***
FOUR
She found him after midnight in a bar across town. She stood on the sidewalk, peering through the window. The place was nearly deserted. Haymitch was a shadow in dim lighting at a booth in back. She’d recognize him anywhere, so why did he keep walking away and hiding within himself? Finding him each time was a cocktail of relief and infuriation injected in her veins. He made her high.
She opened the door and marched straight back, ignoring the bartender who told her he’d be closing in an hour.
“Nine hours, Haymitch. Nine!!” They’d fought that afternoon, and he stormed out. Since he left his bag in the apartment, she knew he hadn’t taken the train home, but she didn’t know where he’d gone.
“I can tell time, sweetheart.” He was sitting with the companionship of an empty liquor bottle, a glass, a bowl of peanuts, and their shells scattered across the table.
“I searched four other bars before this one!” She was frazzled. In a heavy coat, a long skirt and boots, she hadn’t taken the time to dress fancy before heading out.
“Nobody asked you to come looking.“ As angry as he’d been earlier, he’d mellowed with drinks and time. It scared him to think about her walking alone through the Capitol streets at night. That fear agitated him again.
“You have no idea how uncomfortable it is to walk for hours in heels!”
“Then buy some regular shoes. You shouldn’t be out here this late alone anyway.”
“Then don’t leave me alone without a word. And don’t make me wonder if you’re dead somewhere! Don’t do that to me! After all this time, are you really that blind about what you mean to me?”
He didn’t know what to say. He scooted over to make room for her to sit beside him. She stood obstinately for another minute, but her aching feet won out over her frustration.
“I’ll sit with you, but I’m too irate to look at you right now!” She sat with perfect posture, as close to the edge of the booth as possible.
“You’re free to leave...”
“I’m not leaving!”
“Then you’re free to close your eyes.”
“Fine!” She closed her eyes and took a long breath.
Her hair was windblown and her makeup worn out ...and she was so beautiful. She could be with anybody. Why the hell did she chase after him each time he was a jackass?
He moved closer to her. She felt the warmth of his thigh against hers and his breath above her ear. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“I’m not ready for an apology.”
Fine. “Then what do you want from me?”
She touched his leg. “I want you to stay. I want you to let me be angry until I’m not.” She turned her head slightly, and his mouth brushed her temple, accidentally, and neither of them moved.
Then he moved — just his mouth — kissing her temple, her forehead, her eyelids, her cheeks... and bracing for her to smack him.
The hit didn’t come. She slid her hand up the inside of his thigh and stroked his crotch with the nail of her pinky.
“Are you gonna maul my dick?” His lips were on her ear now.
“Not maul.” She slipped off her coat and laid it across his lap... and hers too.
“Is this an invitation?”
“Since when do you wait for an invitation to finger me in the back of a bar?”
“You’re pissed, Effie. How should I know?”
“Because I’m telling you. ...Touch me.” Her hand was back on his groin, using all her nails now to stir him.
If he was gonna get a hand job here after being a jerk to her all day, then he needed to reevaluate his understanding of the world. Her touch felt incredible, and he regretted the wasted hours. “I wanna kiss you.”
“I’m not ready to kiss you. And I don’t want to be kicked out of here for being overtly indecent. ...Just touch me, like you’re telling a secret.”
He lifted her skirt, drew a line along her inner thigh, and caressed her through her panties. “You’re wet, honey.”
“Since the moment I found you.”
Did she mean tonight? Or years ago. He didn’t ask.
She opened his pants and took his dick in her hand. She stroked the tip to slicken her palm. Wrapping her hand around him, she tugged and stroked and tugged again. Relentless.
“Fuck... You’re really doing this.” He slipped a finger inside her and drew moisture up her folds. He rubbed her clit from the inside and out, slowly at first, then faster as intensity surged inside him.
“Ohh...” she started.
“You gotta be quiet, honey. Give me the sounds ...like you’re telling a secret.”
She spilled them into his mouth as she kissed him. Decent or not, she was ready to offer this much forgiveness.
She tasted like coffee and cinnamon gum — and her. He forgot about their argument from the afternoon. He forgot about the bartender and where they were. Understanding the world in that moment was simple. It was her — his girl, his gorgeous girl.
She opened her eyes. His were already on her. It was like pouring whiskey on fire.
“Why is it like this between us?” she panted.
“Now?”
“Always.”
***
FIVE
Some days she questioned moving to 12. Her desire to share a life with Haymitch had become more compelling than the reasons not to. She’d known what she was getting into, but she hadn’t anticipated everything she’d feel once she was existing in that reality.
Some days he wondered why he’d asked her to move in with him. The choice to live together had been a long time coming. He was relieved to stop feigning indifference about having a life with her. He’d wanted it without question. But in the thick of it, he was questioning.
He startled awake at 6am by dishes clanging in the sink, the faucet spraying, and cupboards opening. Rolling onto his side, he covered his head with her pillow, but there was no falling back to sleep, especially without her next to him.
He dragged himself out of bed and threw on his bathrobe. “Damn it, Effie, the sky is BLACK!” he hollered.
“Am I supposed to do something about that?” she yelled back.
“SLEEPING is what *normal* people do when the sky is black.” He followed the fragrance of coffee down the staircase.
“You’re saying I’m ABNORMAL?! Tell that to your birds who have been honking at each other for an hour!”
“Maybe they’re trying to hear each other over the racket in the kitchen!”
Effie faced him with her hands on her hips. The sleeves of his sweater were rolled up to her elbows. Her nightgown peeked out underneath, and her legs were bare from mid thigh to her slippers. Touching her suddenly seemed more appealing than picking a fight, but he’d already started the latter.
“If YOU washed dishes when you used them, then they wouldn’t pile up on the counter! And if you oiled the hinges on these doors, they wouldn’t creak as if this place is haunted!” She opened and closed one several times as an annoying demonstration.
“You’re wearing my sweater. Why do you borrow my clothes when yours fill the entire closet?! You’ve got a hundred pairs of shoes that you never wear!”
She pulled off the sweater and threw it in his face. “I can’t even walk to the street without stepping through mud and goose shit! I refuse to ruin those shoes. If you were willing to hire a landscaper, this wouldn’t be an issue.”
“Never needed a landscaper before. It’s a waste of money.” He took a step toward her. Looking at her in that nightgown took some of the punch out of arguing. He wanted other things, like feeling her breasts through silk.
“The dirt you track into this house is ridiculous! I need to vacuum twice each day. Imagine the savings on the electric bill if you’d fix the yard, or even just leave your shoes at the door when you come inside.” She took a step toward him. She was shivering now without his sweater, and she knew how warm she’d be if she opened that bathrobe and held him.
“I ain’t taking off my shoes in my own house! And I can’t relax around here with you cleaning all the time!”
“Your OWN house? What happened to this being OUR house? And if you’d remember to close the door, there would be less to clean. There was a LIZARD on the floor this morning! It scurried somewhere when I turned on the lights. Now it’s waiting for me in a closet or something. I DON’T live with reptiles!”
“Clearly it’s OUR house because your hair keeps clogging the bathroom sink. I’m TIRED of having to snake the drain.” He immediately regretted the comment because she slipped a band from her wrist and tied her hair up. He loved her hair. What the fuck was he doing complaining about it?
“You’re TIRED because you stay up half the night drinking...” Taking the fight to this place was a risk. His drinking was what unsettled her most. She hadn’t seen him drink this much in years. Not since the Games.
“I’m using a goddamn COASTER. What more do you want from me?! I’m not gonna stop drinking. That’s NOT part of the deal, sweetheart.”
“I’m not asking you to. I just want to understand...” She took another step. She could reach out and touch him, but she held back. “...Do you even want me here?”
He gathered a bit of her nightgown between his thumb and fingers. He held onto that much of her. “Do you even want to be here?”
She leaned into his touch. It raised goosebumps on her arms. “This is me, honey... I wake up early. I need things to be clean and orderly. I like my clothes from my old life. I like the shoes I can’t wear here on the gravel streets. I keep busy because I don’t know who I’ll be here if I stop...” She asked him again, “Do you want me here?”
He slipped the band from her hair. “I’ve been on my own a long time. I’m used to things being the ways they’ve been for longer than I care to think about. I’m trying. I sleep late. I wash dishes when I run out of clean ones. I don’t mind dirt on the floor or rings on the coffee table. I’m a drunk. You know all this shit.” He asked her again, “Do you want to be here?”
She untied the belt of his robe. Inside he was naked and aroused, and she wanted to be with him, just as he was. She closed the distance between them and slipped inside with him, silk against skin.
She slid her tongue along the seam of his lips, and he opened, taking her in like a starving person. He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. She wasn’t wearing panties, and he was tempted to fuck her right there.
“Let’s go to bed,” she murmured into his mouth.
“Are you gonna make me carry you up the damn staircase when we could do this right here?”
“I want you in our bed.”
That’s all he needed to hear. He was already climbing the stairs. “...Fortunately you’re not a cow.”
“Fortunately you’re not a lizard, otherwise I’d have to squash you.”
He fell back on the bed with her on top of him. He groaned in jest and in the relief of simply having her.
They shifted toward the pillows. He sat up with her in his lap and kissed her as he shook the robe off. She lifted the hem of her nightgown.
“Leave it. I wanna take it off you when you’re riding me.”
She slid along the length of him three times. “Do you want to come fast or slow?”
“Sweetheart, I don’t think we’re gonna have a choice.”
She laughed as she drew him inside her.
“God... I want you here. I don’t want to screw this up.”
“I want to be here, honey. I’m not going anywhere.”
***
SIX
On a blanket in a meadow, he’d made love to his girl — his first one — the day before the Reaping. They were 16. He told her he loved her, in case it was his only chance. But what did he know then of love? Only the way it filled him, not yet what a thief it would be. His girl was killed because he’d loved her. His family too, and he hadn’t said the words since then.
Haymitch spent a quarter of a century evading love entirely — filling the void with liquor, fucking sometimes but dodging intimacy. He had enough blood on his hands for a hundred lifetimes. He’d wanted nothing to do with the thief — until love filled him again in a way that defied evasion.
So what could he say now to his girl — this one who met him in the void in the middle of his life and refused to leave? The soulful part of him that he’d thought dead was feeling again. What could he say to his stubborn girl on a blanket in a meadow as they were creating again and again the thing that fills and steals.
‘I love you’? ...No way. Calling it by its name would give it too much power. He wasn’t ready.
He was deep inside her with his hands in her hair. Intensity welled up like a wave about to crest. He wanted the words. Ready or not, he NEEDED them.
“Wait,” she demanded, pushing his hips away, single handedly holding back the tide, “I want to be on top.”
“Effie, I’m right at the edge. Are you trying to kill me?”
“The grass is poking my back.”
“We’re on a goddamn blanket!”
“I have sensitive skin!”
He rolled over, swapping places with her, and the words came, “I... hate you, you know. ...Your skin...” He traced her spine. “...Your neck...” He sucked her throat hard enough to leave a mark. “...Your breasts...” He caressed the curves along her sides. “...These eyes that keep seeing me... I hate you so damn much.”
His hair was damp with sweat. She brushed it away from from his eyes, overcome with emotion. “I hate you too, honey. I’ve hated you for so long... I can hardly remember who I was before you.”
Her breasts grazed his chest in a rush of sensation. He held her, warm from the sun as they swayed and their bodies thrust together, making unfathomable beauty. She kissed him until she shuddered.
“Oh, God... I’m right there... Right there... I’m coming now... Ohhh...” She cried out long and sweet enough for mockingjays to start singing.
The pulsing of her body set him off. “Ahh, holy shit...” The wave swelled and crested and crashed. “Fuck, honey... It’s so good... So good.”
They filled each other. Like laughter and tears, feeling everything and coming undone. There was no stopping it.
