the bathwater barely stops running before veritas emerges into the hallway--naked, languid, unapologetic. you catch the way his skin gleams, still damp, a single bead of water tracing the line of his collarbone before sliding down his chest and over the cut of his abdomen.
a thick swallow trails down your throat.
then your gaze snags lower, almost traitorous, onto the heavy length of his cock hanging thick between his thighs, already half-hard. veritas doesn’d hide from you--rather angles his body so you can see.
the corner of his lips lift at the sound of your breath catching, and he tilts his head your way as if you’re some amusing theorem. “what? i simply finished bathing. is it a necessicity to apologise for my anatomy?” his cock twitches slightly as he stretches his arms over his head and bends his back deliberately, making every line of him a provocation.
you can only squeeze your thighs together upon seeing him in such a state, but the need has already sunk its claws into you. the past month without him has been unbearable--you’d curled up in his shirts, revisited old voice messages, clung to the faint smell of him on your pillow. and now he’s here: gloriously bare, cock begging to be buried either in your walls or your hands or your mouth, and you simply cannot look away.
he notices, of course. “mm. i hypothesised you’d crumble within minutes. though, judging from your expression, it appears my estimate was generous.”
you whimper, closing the space to clutch at his wrist. “you’re so mean… i missed you.” it comes as a whisper when you bury your face against his damp chest.
veritas hums at that, the sound smug yet soft as his hand slides down your spine. “clingy girl,” he teases, brushing his cock deliberately against your stomach. “a mere thirty days apart, and you’re trembling like this already?”
“mere…? a mere thirty days?”
the lustful ache in your voice finally cracks his composure, and suddenly he is on you. pressing you down into the couch, lips catching yours in a kiss that tastes like both triumph and hunger. his cock drags hot and heavy against your thigh, smearing a bead of slick precum onto your skin, and you feel more hot wetness pool between your legs. he huffs out a laugh when you whine into his mouth, hips canting up desperately, needing the weight of him, the stretch you’ve been yearning for.
his breath comes shaky now, though his words remain sharp: “so desperate. and here i thought this past month was meant to cultivate restraint.” he pushes against you, the thick, flushed head of his cock catching on your entrance and making your breath stutter.
the ‘lecture’ dissolves into a groan when he notches himself inside you with ease, stretching you open. you clutch at his shoulders, whimpering his name, clinging as though he’ll vanish again if you let go.
his reply is another wet thrust, deeper, breaking his composure almost entirely.
someone is wearing their 'i ♡ verimanu sex' t-shirt today......
clenched so hard i fell to my knees. what. iiiabhhbbdncbcjdkkjjhhsallllsbdvd i cannot even say anything. hb fndhhnbvv manifesting clutching his wrist and hiding my face in his chest… hbbbnnnfnfhhnbjgjjjj cock……………………………… literally unwell. the couch! aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa NO I AM GENUINELY SO SORRY I CANNOT EVEN EXPRESS MYSELF AND MY GRATITUDE I JUST WANT HIM :(( thank you……………… i’m on my knees… thank you. but i’m about to suffer now T-T time to smash my head against the tiles or something I NEED HIM
