hi sorry it’s been a second . i started school again and got busy or something ]: anyway , here’s lautski kissing for me and maybe for you but mainly for me . they’re unreasonably soft , and it’s more feelings than kissing actually lol . so maybe i’m the soft one
Stephanie presses her palm against Peter's sternum, and he lets her guide him onto their shared bed, lets himself fall. An involuntary noise escapes him, but it's more out of surprise as opposed to discomfort. So, she snorts, and he squirms on top of their crumpled blanket.
A saccharine sweet smile spreading across her face, Stephanie climbs on top of him, but under the influence of trickling moonlight and lethargy, there's no rush. No more frantic attempts to cling onto exposed skin in cramped spaces or under the blanket. No more whispers and hands clamped over their mouths to muffle shouts.
They have tonight in its entirety with no distractions knocking at their bedroom door, no consequences to be reminded of. She thinks that the moon and the stars would be patient with them, stubbornly remaining in the sky until they're finished and on the verge of falling into a deep slumber.
Her limbs feel like molten lava cascading down a volcano, slow and shimmering as she swings her leg over Peter's legs, straddling him. Stephanie's hands begin at his waist, and when she runs her thumb against the sliver of exposed skin along his waistline, Peter's belly flexes and gooseflesh raises in her finger's wake.
"Steph," he mumbles. It's not exactly a whine, but it conveys a similar neediness.
Stephanie's smile widens imperceptibly. She almost gives into him, almost lets her hands roam across every inch of his body as if the aching in the pit of her stomach is an unbearable starvation.
But no, not tonight. Such desire is still present, yes, but it doesn't roar in her ears. It settles somewhere deep within her, simmering like a pan on the burner. Stephanie simply has to be patient and wait. She can be patient.
Still, she shifts slightly on his lap. Peter makes a strangled noise that she knows he's not proud of.
"Steph," Peter repeats, and this time, it’s more of an annoyed groan than anything. Yet when he looks up at her through his glasses, he holds so much affection in his gaze that it would taste like pure sugar on her tongue. Stephanie has never had a big sweet tooth, but she thinks she would savor the taste of this syrup as it coats her taste buds and seeps into her gums. If it’s for him, it would be worth it.
Stephanie dips her head, and Peter meets her in the middle, crashing their lips together. With his tail wagging behind him, he tries to leap into rushing waters, but she leads him back to the sand. Stephanie is gentle and chaste because he taught her that she deserves innocent affection as much as the instantaneous explosions she has only experienced in past relationships.
When Peter groans into her mouth, she can confidently say that he isn’t actually upset with her, that he won’t push her until she’s tumbling along with his torrential force. He’s just eager to be closer to her. It’s always been this way between the two of them, and maybe that’s why Stephanie is ruined for anyone else.
Stephanie nips at his bottom lip, her teeth gently scraping the surface, and she recognizes the Vaseline smeared across his lips. It’s a small thing, but it makes her smile into the kiss all the same. Peter’s preference for Vaseline doesn’t come from allergies or sensitivities, so Stephanie once tried to buy other lip balms for him, but he flat out refused and said that he would just taste the other brands off of her lips.
Right now, she hopes that he’s hooked on the taste of strawberry.
When Stephanie tilts her head to deepen their kiss, Peter practically sighs in relief and follows suit. The slickness is familiar to her, but the tenderness never fails to overwhelm her and cloud her senses. Everything inside her is unbelievably warm, and she craves wrinkled hands framing domesticity and red flashes of impurity all at once. Stephanie feels her muscles weakening, feels herself gravitating towards his magnetic pull, molding their bodies into one mass when she thinks it’s impossible to further close the gap between them.
Reluctantly, she pulls away, and a string of saliva follows her, bridging the short distance between them. Stephanie presses their foreheads together as they try to catch their breath.
She opens her eyes to find that Peter is already looking at her with an unmatched softness, softer than the sheets they lay in and the milk white flower petals on their windowsill. He doesn’t see her as this sliver of sunshine in the darkness because that isn’t Stephanie, and he would feel physically ill if he saw her as someone she wasn’t, even accidentally. He acts like his perception of her is this big secret toying at his lips, one that he would take to his grave, but whatever Peter sees her as doesn’t matter to her because he smiles at her like he cannot help but doing so whenever he casts his gaze upon her.
It becomes too much for her far too quickly, but she doesn’t try to combat or hide from the feeling. Instead, Stephanie embraces it wholeheartedly and presses her palm against her cheek. Peter leans into her touch, as if it’s instinct, and she cannot help but lean forward again to reward him for good behavior. She tentatively licks his bottom lip, and he opens his mouth, welcoming her home.
Peter’s hands find themselves on Stephanie’s hips, but he doesn’t attempt to slip his hands underneath her pajama shirt because he’s too goddamn good for her. However, she’s no saint, so she covers his hands with her own and guides them underneath the fabric. Peter makes an indescribable noise, and with her unspoken permission, he digs his fingers into her and his blunt nails gently scratch against her bare flesh. He doesn’t roam anywhere higher or lower on her body, only holds her in place, like she’s exactly where she’s meant to be.
And tonight, Stephanie is exactly where she’s meant to be, clutching onto the boy that she loves in their shared bedroom. Tonight, it’s all she needs.
