Chapter Text
I know you think I think too much
But I don't know if it's enough
Dirty love, all I want are your eyes on mine
And underneath of it all
I dream of a thousand shooters
Hallelujahs, are unable to save us
* * * * * * * * * *
Twelve days.
It had been so much worse this time, the waiting.
Now that you know the weight of him pressing into you, the soft brush of his fingers as they tip your chin up, making you just as wet as the tight grip of his fist in your hair, the way that every damn word out of his mouth feels fine tuned to drive you mad and be grateful for it, leaving you writhing and opening for him in a way that you hadn’t anticipated.
You’ve spoken to Klaue once since that night, your stomach doing flips every time you read and re-read your text conversation with him. Still processing his admission that he’d been thinking about you, still not entirely prepared to believe that there might be something in you that he wants, the way that you’re starting to realize that you want him.
It’s easier to assume that him seeking you out is nothing more than surface level, so you keep those thoughts quieter and separate from the rest, not wanting to read more into his words than are really there.
* * *
After Klaue left you had slept hard.
The next morning your mind is soft and clear when your eyes blink open, a notable change from the usual fog that you have to work to shake off. You don’t even remember falling asleep, and chuckle when you realize that you’re in the exact same position as when you had laid down, face stuffed gracelessly into your pillow with the covers half pulled over you.
Warm imprints of a dream trail after you, not dissimilar to the ones you’ve been having recently, although these are particularly vivid; ghosts of Klaue’s hands gripping your hips, his tongue sliding wet and hungry between your thighs.
But then you move, and when you stretch your arms above your head the contented sound you make deepens to a full moan at the sudden soreness that tugs though nearly every muscle in your body. Your thighs squeeze together against the ache that you feel between them, too, and the confused “what on Earth did I do yesterday??" shifts on a wave of realization that knocks you breathless.
Oh Jesus, it wasn’t a dream.
A wave of memories pulls you all the way awake and your body follows as the entirety of last night comes flooding back: You on your knees in your workroom, his body trapping you against your door, him pushing you to admit what you needed until he was fucking you and filling you and praising you, and your breath catches as the still raw ache twines itself together with fresh desire.
“Shit!” You gasp when your eyes fall on the nightstand clock, suddenly realizing that you’re going to be late for your shift, and you’ve never been late.
Trying to move as quickly as you can, you throw some clothes on the bed and splash water on your face, hastily pulling your hair back while fighting stiff muscles and distracting thoughts. As you start to pull your pants on your fingers absent-mindedly brush over a dark smudge on your leg, but when it doesn’t move you look closer.
Your breath hangs for several beats when you see the pattern of rose petal bruises trailing their way up the inside of your thighs, mementos that Klaue’s mouth had left on your skin and suddenly “late” and “early” are no longer concepts you’re particularly concerned with.
Clothes and work forgotten you fall back on the bed, a hand slipping beneath the edge of your underwear to press against your clit, and it doesn’t take long before your breath is coming in short gasps as you tremble against your tightly circling fingers. All it takes is the memory of his eyes looking up at you as his mouth hovered over your sex, equal parts impatient and imploring while he waited for you to say his name, and then you’re over the edge, your muscles clenching around the lingering ache of him deep in your cunt.
Twelve days since your own touch had been nowhere near enough.
* * * * * * * * * *
A couple of days later it suddenly occurs to you mid-shift that the ache in your muscles has faded, and you immediately miss the tactile reminder of him even when you’re just walking around.
You hadn't really realized how long it had been since you'd been touched.
Normally it’s not something that tends to take up a lot of space in your mind, but once in a while you do find yourself thinking about the press of someone else’s skin against yours, a cool longing that curls itself up somewhere behind your sternum. But you’ve still never quite understood when people said they were “touch starved”, and more often than not being touched required an effort on your part, a consciousness that was tiring and made you too aware of the edges of your body.
You had never been overwhelmed by friction, by singing nerves and sliding teeth, had never felt yourself succumb to it - or been made to.
You’d already had a feeling that you might be in trouble when it came to Klaue, but now you’re almost certain. Because now you need it, his touch, and you wonder if he knew that you would. Every thought bound to his fingertips so that no matter where your mind wanders it always makes its way back to him, to the sharp sting of his palm, the pad of his thumb trailing along your neck.
So you try to do what you can to occupy yourself while you mentally tick off the days, just keeping as busy as you can, reminding yourself that first and foremost you’re here to do a job.
You start to work overtime to try and fill as much of your days as possible, but when you arrive on the ninth straight day and the fourth of self-imposed doubles, one of the shift managers you’re not as familiar with jogs over and blocks your path to the lockers.
“Uhh, what’s up?”
The man is lanky and tall, he must be at least 6’5” and it feels like you have to look almost straight up to make eye contact.
“Not today.” He states simply.
Ahh, right. As soon as you hear his accent you can’t believe that you forgot about actual Vlad from actual Romania.
“Not what today?” You frown up at him.
“Work.”
“Ok, I’m going to need a bit more than that,” you say, trying to walk around him, but he matches you and moves to block your path.
“Boss’s orders.”
“You’re not my boss, Vlad. So I’m not sure what you’re-”
“Not me,” he rolls his eyes, clearly thinking you’re daft. “You know, ‘The Boss?’ Do I not say it right?” He uses his fingers to make air quotes in an attempt to clarify his meaning and you blink with realization.
“Klaue??”
“Yes. Now go away. Two days.”
It’s one thing for Klaue to know your schedule, honestly that doesn’t surprise you, but is he really trying to stop you from working?
Vlad just shrugs when you narrow your eyes at him, but you know he’s right. It’s not in his hands and it’s a waste of breath to argue.
“Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow.” You finally give in and turn to leave.
“No, he says two-”
“Are you serious? It would have been a regular scheduled shift anyway, so I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Vlad frowns, unsure what to do with your resistance.
“I’ll just work the first shift, no doubles.” You try to reassure him.
“He won't like it.”
“Then don’t tell him.” You turn away with a shrug as if that’s the obvious solution and not entirely delusional.
“He’ll find out!”
“Well, he’ll have to deal with it!” You say over your shoulder as you begrudgingly make your way back to your bunk.
You’re annoyed and unprepared for a day off and you can’t stand just sitting around with your nervous energy, so since it’s still early enough and the days-long autumn rain seems to have paused, you decide to drive a couple of hours away to a mountain lake bordered by trails.
The weather is cool but perfect for hiking, and although the trail is steep and pocked with ankle deep mud in spots, you enjoy the ache that accumulates in your joints the longer you walk.
After stopping for an early supper at a small lodge in the area with the resident orange Mizzy (Marzipan is his full name, the server informs you) keeping you company on the next chair over, you still manage to return just after sunset.
* * *
Despite the physical fatigue from your hike you still sleep fitfully and end up wide awake in the early morning hours, which is when you notice the notification light on your phone, a flashing point next to your bed.
Your stomach does a very intense loop when you see that it’s a text from Klaue and you quickly sit up, flipping on your bedside light.
> Have you been thinking about me?
Oh.
You check the timestamp: thirty-seven minutes ago. You don’t know where he is so you have no way of knowing what time it would be for him. Would he even respond now, or would he be distracted with something else? Is he with people or alone, or has he fallen asleep? A hundred thoughts flit through your head, but you’re also buzzing from the fact that he reached out, and is likely well aware of what time it is where you are.
What the hell, you think, and type a reply.
> Yes.
> I haven’t been able to do much else, if I’m being honest.
You try to convince yourself that you don’t care if he responds, even if the staccato rhythm of your heart says otherwise, but you don’t have to dwell for long because after a few minutes you nearly gasp when a new message notification buzzes.
> I’m pleased to hear it.
> You took yesterday off?
Ok. Right to business, then.
> I did.
> And today.
> I haven’t decided yet.
You hit send, chewing your lower lip as you wait, but his response is decidedly quick this time.
> That wasn’t a question.
Shifting under the covers, you’re reminded that even through text his words have the ability to have your body swiftly warming.
> I know.
> And?
You pause, thumbs hovering over the screen. You really haven’t decided, and you could say no or yes to him now and still end up changing your mind in the morning. Maybe you'll be exhausted and willing to take the break, or you might still have energy to burn and want the distraction.
There’s no other reason, surely, why you wouldn’t just do what he says.
> Ok. I won’t work tomorrow.
> Good.
> I’ve been thinking about you, too.
You inhale a shaky breath as your thighs squeeze together, the warmth that swirls there adding a boldness to your response.
> I’ve been wondering if you were. That makes me feel good.
It really fucking does, you realize, one of your hands working its way beneath the covers, and you shiver as you press the damp fabric of your underwear against your cleft.
> Well, I do enjoy making you feel good.
> I'm looking forward to doing it again.
> What if you already were?
There’s a pause, longer than the rest, heat growing between your legs while you wait. Then:
> Where are you right now, darling?
You're still working out a reply when another message comes through.
> As much as I would prefer to continue this conversation, I have to go.
You slump with a grumble of frustration, however you perk up with his next message.
> But I should be back in two days.
> I guess I'll just have to keep thinking about you until then.
You don't receive a reply back after your last text, but that doesn't stop you from moaning his name into your pillow, your heart continuing to beat hard in your chest long after as you think about how soon you'll see him. Finally drifting back to sleep just as morning light starts to illuminate the small window in your room.
* * *
You really do try to stick to what you'd agreed to but by the afternoon you’re once again too antsy to sit still, and your annoyance at Klaue telling you what to do is creeping back in. He may run the place but it’s not like he’s the one setting schedules, and would he actually care if you worked or not? Or even notice?
You had hoped that Vlad wouldn’t be there or that you would be able to avoid him, but the man appears seemingly out of nowhere - an impressive feat with his height. He just stands there with a long arm extended and wordlessly points towards the door, unphased by the scowl you aim back over your shoulder as you turn away in defeat.
* * * * * * * * * *
You've just finished a complicated project and are in the process of prepping the next phase when you notice a bustle of movement out of the corner of your eye, and then Tom walks into the workshop and lets everyone know it’s time to head to the loading dock.
He's back.
Every nerve in your body fires awake in a single hot surge and you have to fight to keep your expression and body language neutral while you hastily put away your gear and join the others.
As soon as you make it to the dock you immediately start scanning the crowd and it feels like you can't get a full breath, like you’re being held underwater with your lips hovering just beneath the plane of surface tension and even though you're so close to a lungful of air it may as well be a mile away.
Your heart jumps when you think you catch a flash of tattooed skin through the crowd. Someone pushes roughly past your elbow but you barely register it, your eyes flicking from face to face in the spot where you think you saw him, and then your breath is caught in your chest when two bodies part and the sharp profile and unmistakable arc of black ink emerges.
Focused on his conversation Klaue doesn’t see you yet, so you watch and wait, your eyes not leaving him as he discusses something with a man you don’t recognize, a frown of concentration knitting his brows.
He looks rather the worse for wear, clothes dark and stained at the edges and the rest of him no better, his hands and arms smudged almost up to his elbows. Your mind goes hazy as you drink him in, overwhelmed by the thought of those hands grabbing your thighs, digging into the flesh of your hips and leaving smudges behind on your clean skin. Marking you.
Crossing your arms tight against your chest you try to tamp down the tremble in your limbs when he eventually steps forward and starts issuing instructions, and as you watch you think you can see his gaze moving deliberately over the crowd, your breath coming shallower as he gets closer to where you're standing.
Then his eyes flick past you for a fraction of a second before returning to lock with yours, a hitch in his voice when they do. It’s nothing more than a brief stumble, a handful of words haltingly spoken before continuing on like normal, but you’re sure you hear it.
He keeps his gaze fixed on you now, and even from a distance his sharp blue eyes have you held and pinned beneath them.
And you don’t look away this time.
When Klaue approaches you afterwards you’re barely able to get out a “Hi” before you’re interrupted by a very large man saying something about a call from The Chancellor.
It feels in that moment like maybe you actually could produce daggers from your eyes if you concentrated hard enough, but your frustration is tempered with sharp satisfaction when you see the flash of fear in the man’s eyes at the look Klaue gives him as he slowly turns to acknowledge the update.
Once the messenger has slunk away, he turns back at you, resignation clear in his expression, but a glint of promise in his words.
“I’ll find you.”
* * *
By the time everyone disperses your shift is over, and not knowing how long Klaue is going to be you decide to change and head to your workroom to pass some time. It’s turned into an unseasonably warm day and with no air conditioning currently running the facility is steadily warming up, so on a whim you decide on a dress, throwing on a simple knee-length white cotton shift with your boots.
A couple of hours later you've already reorganized all of your materials twice and now you're leaning over your sketchbook, a reference photo of the mountains from your hike the other day open on your phone.
You try to focus on the relaxed strokes of linear shading but your mind refuses to stay put, not that it takes more than a wayward nudge to have your thoughts drifting to him instead.
You almost don’t notice your hands turn to a fresh page until graphite is finding his profile in the paper, the sharp line of his nose dipping to the curve of full lips. A few curls escaping above a sharp eyes and furrowed brow. It's not perfect but your breath still catches as his image emerges and anticipation wells up once again, a swollen river on the verge of overflowing its banks as you wonder for the seventy-fifth time if he’ll show up.
Or if you’ll end up back in your room alone when you eventually accept that he’s not coming tonight. Which is fine, you reason with yourself, fighting the granite weight that’s settling in your gut. He’s a busy man, if he doesn’t have time, then-
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes."
You whip around, your hand reflexively crumpling your sketch of the man who’s now framed in the doorway.
It seems like he came straight here since he's still wearing the same clothes layered with oil and grime, and although it looks like he’s made some attempt to wash them his hands and arms are the same. Even so, your eyes are quickly drawn to where they’re crossed against his chest, the fabric pulled taut beneath them.
"You found me!" You finally manage with a laugh, quickly dropping your pencil and closing the now disheveled sketchbook, wondering how long he’d been watching you.
“Thought I’d try here first. I’m glad I did.” Uncrossing his arms Klaue moves into the room, and the heat that had been tempered by frustration while you waited now reignites in your core as he approaches.
"Jesus, you really are filthy."
It takes a moment to register that you just said those words out loud, biting the tip of your tongue between your teeth when you do.
"I can go clean up," he points back into the hallway, casually turning as if he were making to leave. "It won't take lo-"
"No!” It comes out more forcefully than you intend.
He turns back to you, an initial look of surprise shifting to a soft smirk as his eyes move across your body, sharpening when they slide down over your bare legs as if just now noticing what you're wearing.
“No, I mean, you don't...have to do that.” You continue, shifting on your feet as his eyes continue their hungry path.
It's not just that you feel a peculiar madness creeping in at the thought of him leaving again, but you’re also definitely realizing that you like it. That the thought of his thick, smudged fingers contrasted against white fabric is making your breathing go shallow.
Making you itch for him to make a mess of you, too.
“How did you even get like this?” You attempt to corral your thoughts, working to keep your tone somewhere between amused and lightly incredulous.
“I was in South Africa. Lots of work needs doing, and there was a rather limited supply of soap and running water, I’m afraid,” Klaue shrugs, looking down at his hands, and you bite your lip as your own gaze follows. “I have washed since then, but I need something stronger to do a proper job.”
You want to pay attention, really you do. You would happily listen to every little thing he could think to tell you, greedily gleaning hints of where he’s been and what he does when he’s not here, fascinated on a mechanical level how he keeps this entire operation running.
But right now you’re losing the ability to focus on anything but the syrupy lust that’s pooling rapidly between your thighs.
When you look back up he’s watching you with a relaxed stillness, having clearly caught you staring, and once you meet his gaze he steps the rest of the way into the room, not taking his eyes off of you as he closes the heavy door behind him.
Then your feet are carrying you across the last of the distance between you, hands quickly sliding up and around his neck where you feel firm muscle flexing beneath your fingers as Klaue’s arms wrap around your waist to pull you flush against him.
“Did you miss me, darling?”
Your heart jumps hearing the pet name again, and the intoxicating rumble that’s followed you both in dreams and waking hours pulls a shiver from deep within you, your eyes flicking between his as you tilt your head up.
“Why don’t you find out?” You pant against his lips.
Then his mouth is closing over yours, skin barely meeting before you instinctively part your lips and slip your tongue into his mouth, an arcing jolt of heat in your core at the soft growl this elicits from him. One of his hands moves to the back of your head to hold you firmly in place as he responds to you, the kiss quickly becoming messy with need as his tongue delves hungrily into your mouth in a warm, demanding slide.
You’re swiftly and willingly becoming untethered beneath his touch as you let him kiss you breathless, but your store of patience has been waning, and it suddenly drops to zero when you roll your hips and feel the ridge of his hard cock pressing into you.
Immediately your hands drop lower, sliding over his chest and abdomen and down to his belt where your fingers fumble blindly at metal and leather.
Breaking the kiss his hands quickly brush yours out of the way, and as he removes his belt you step back and reach under your dress to pull your underwear down your legs, almost tipping over as you hastily step out of them with your boots still on.
You haven’t even straightened all the way back up when you find yourself being spun and pinned against the door with a broad thigh pressed firmly between yours, the friction of the fabric of your dress dragging against your sex as your hips rock in response.
Pulling back, Klaue's dark eyes find yours as he reaches down to lift the hem of your dress, calloused fingers and cool metal trailing up to the aching spot where your thighs meet.
A gasp escapes your throat when the tips of two fingers drag along your cleft, and as they slip through the moisture that’s already gathering there something in his gaze seems to fall away, giving you a split second glimpse of a shade of blue that you’re not sure exists before snapping back in to focus on you.
As you sense the resettling of his control his fingers begin to move with purpose, parting you and sliding so easily through your damp folds, slowly circling but not touching your clit before dipping back down down to tease at your entrance.
Finding out exactly how wet you already are for him.
“You did miss me, didn’t you,” he rasps, allowing just the tip of his middle finger to slip into you before dragging the slick digit back up to circle your clit again, your hips jerking when he brushes the sensitive bud.
"Yes. God, I need you.” Your hips eagerly seek more pressure, shuddering against the slip of his finger and the low words that chase a pleased sigh to drop straight down to your core.
“I know you do, darling.”
Then he pulls away and quickly finishes undoing his pants, pushing them down to finally free his erection, and you're to keep from moaning at the intoxicating sight of his cock bobbing heavily between you. But before you can reach out to touch him with hungry fingertips he bends down to grip you under your thighs and suddenly you’re being lifted.
With a surprised ‘Oh!’ your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he presses you back against the door and you feel him adjusting his hips to line himself up with your entrance, a stuttered whine spilling from your throat as he starts to press up into you, his answering groan making your cunt clench around the thick head of his cock.
You feel almost mad with need, and there hasn’t been a day since Klaue left that the thought of him stretching you open again hadn’t crossed your mind but, god, he’s so much.
Using his shoulders and the brace of the door against your back you attempt to keep yourself somewhat lifted so that you can have a second to adjust.
"Wait, you’re..I just need to-" But your stammered words are cut off when he thrusts up again.
"Ohh, but you’re doing so well darling,” he grits out, tightening his grip on your thighs to keep you pinned in place. Christ, I’ve been thinking about being buried in you since the moment I left.”
“So’ve I,” you pant, “but oh my god, you’re- oh!”
You let out a startled cry when he suddenly pulls away from the door, and now that you’re unable to properly brace against anything the weight of your body has you sliding further down his length, trembling arms hopelessly clinging to his shoulders as he works himself deeper inside of you.
“Don’t know if I can." You plead, even as the responding roll of your hips follows the line of needy flame that’s building deep in your core.
"Don’t lie, darling. Not when I know how well you take my cock, now." Klaue scolds, his hands palming your ass and helping you to take him further as you writhe against that now familiar ache of overwhelming fullness.
Every sense is filled by him as he fills your cunt; the scratch of his beard against your cheek a mirror of the teasing texture of his words, the scent of his musk leaving you lightheaded, a sinful petrichor that fills you with need even as he’s already giving you so much, and as he continues to buck up into you your fingers roughly pull the collar of his shirt aside so that you can lick hungrily along his neck.
The skin beneath your tongue tastes the way the earth must taste to the roots of a newly planted sapling. A deep amber and heady thing that has a wave of drenching heat rippling out from your core as his cock starts to slide more easily into you, a harsh need flaring hot through your veins as your muscles tense and relax, opening for the unyielding thickness of him.
And while your body softens the current of your mind goes rough, your mouth watering as you continue to kiss and lick across his skin until without consciously thinking about it, driven by something else, something low and base that you’re not sure you could name, you sink your teeth into the place where the taut muscle of his neck meets his shoulder.
With a surprised hiss you're suddenly back against the door with all of his weight pressing into you, and you cry out when a rough thrust has him finally buried deep.
“That’s my little liar,” Klaue grunts with another hard thrust.
You can’t respond in any meaningful way, only moaning brokenly as he builds a deep, steady rhythm, and it's not long until the aching stretch combined with the friction of his hips against your clit has your thoughts fading, the telltale thrum swiftly building as he fucks you.
"Going to come already, aren’t you?” He growls between rough breaths, his fingers finding new bruises in the soft flesh of your thighs as your muscles tighten around him. “Such a needy little thing."
"Ohmygodyes, I’m so close, please-"
“Hmmm, it's too bad you didn't listen, then, isn't it?”
Klaue’s words are low and measured but don't make sense as they filter through the thick haze of pleasure.
"What?" You pant as his arms flex to lift you, pulling you up and off of his cock and you brace for a hard thrust back in. But instead he slowly lowers your legs until you don’t have much choice and your booted feet reluctantly drop back down to the floor as he releases you.
“Wait. What..what’re you doing?” Your now rumpled dress falls back over your legs as you stand there breathless and achingly empty.
“You were supposed to be resting.”
Klaue’s tone chides as he tucks his erection into his pants and makes his way over to the couch.
“What?” You ask for the third time, shaking your head in confusion. And then finally it clicks. He’s referring to your self-imposed work schedule, and presumably your recent trip off-compound - not that that should be any of his business.
He raises an eyebrow as the realization dawns on your face.
“I’m not saying you can’t do overtime, that's part of the contract," he continues. "But it's hard work and you work hard, and that many days in a row plus the doubles? You’re smarter than that."
Struggling to work out a response, his praise couched in a reprimand only adds to the difficulty in regaining your equilibrium.
"You need to rest." His words are notched with an edge that doesn’t invite discussion, yet hot resistance still flares your chest.
"But I can't rest." you burst out, a new layer of frustration weaving itself in. "I can't relax, I-”
You cut yourself off with a huff before you say too much, before you admit that he's the reason you can’t relax. Your lips press together into a thin line as your jaw works.
Mention of your contract had also smarted a little, though why should it? It was a simple statement and the reason you’re here, after all.
You take a breath to steady yourself.
"It's not exactly like there's a lot to do around here, and it takes time to travel anywhere else, so I'm going to do what I can to help pass the time.” When you’re not here, you don’t add. “And by the way, you didn’t say anything about resting. You just said no work, and I didn't- "
"But you did try, didn't you?" He cuts you off with a dark look. “After you said you wouldn’t.”
Your face goes hot but you manage to not look away. Damn it, Vlad. Of course he's going to find out if you tell him.
"Listen, you don’t have to worry about me. I know my abilities and I don’t need you telling me what I can or can't do!"
Even as the words are coming out of your mouth you know that your belligerence sounds foolish.
"That's interesting.” Klaue tilts his head and you have to actively fight the instinct to take a step back when his eyes darken to a perilous shade of blue. “Because I think you're going to do exactly what I tell you to."
Despite your frustration, heat flares between your legs at the double meaning in his words.
“And right now, that means you're going to wait to come on my cock."
You can only stare at him open-mouthed while he watches you from his seat, a glint of gold flashing through the smug grin that tugs at his lips. And now you understand: He could have brought all this up as soon as he found you, but he hadn’t. He’d waited. Timing it perfectly to drive you perfectly fucking mad.
“Now, come here."
You want to protest, want to dig in your heels and resist even as his voice draws you along on the tether of unsatisfied need that he’s already woven so masterfully in you.
Instead you straighten your shoulders and slowly make your way over to the couch, trying to hide the hitch in your breath at the pleased expression on his face when you stop in front of him.
"Do you want me on my knees, again?" You ask, vividly recalling the last time you were in this very same position.
Your confidence wavers when you catch the glint in his eye, a flash of something dangerously sharp concealed beneath curling waves, but you can’t help but thrill at the moment of consideration you see there before his expression steadies again.
"Very much, darling,” Klaue hums. “But right now there’s something else I want."
You’re getting increasingly impatient to feel him again but when you move forward intending to straddle him, his hands quickly stop you and you have to step back again.
“What did I just say?” He chides with a quirk of his brow, and you let out a frustrated huff.
“That…I have to wait.” You frown but then flush when you realize that you’re actually pouting.
“To come on my cock.” He corrects you, shifting forward to sit on the edge of the couch so that you’re standing between his knees. “But I’m still going to make you come before that happens.”
Your body reacts swiftly to his words, but then you’re caught off guard when his hands slide down your legs and begin unlacing your boots, finding yourself fighting the affection that seeps into your chest when he helps you steady yourself as he removes and tosses them aside.
Your attention is quickly drawn back to his touch, though, because as soon as you’ve straightened up his hands are brushing at the hem of your dress, pushing it up ever so slightly before sliding back down to your knees.
Looking up at you Klaue watches your face, a pleased twitch on his lips when your eyelids flutter in response to the inward curl of his thumbs. You know that he can feel the muscles of your thighs tense and flex as the firm pressure of his hands moves a little higher beneath the cotton hem, inching closer to where you haven’t stopped aching for him, before dropping back down again.
“Let me see, darling." Klaue hums, his words warm and teasing.
As though you had something you were hiding from him. And he wanted it.
You begin to gather the fabric of your dress in your hands, drawing up the hem, slowly, until you see his eyes darken as your sex is exposed to him.
“Did you think about this while you were gone, too?” You tease, but you’re quickly cut off when he leans forward and drags his lips along your cleft
“Thought about what? The taste of you?” You're unable to catch the whimper in your throat when his tongue flicks out, just barely parting you.
“Or that sweet sound you make the first time my tongue touches your cunt?” His voice goes rough as hands slide around to your ass, steadying you as your hips start to rock against the agonizing tease of his lips.
“Or that smart mouth of yours.”
Klaue drags the tip of his nose along your cleft and through the thatch of hair above it, and the puff of heated breath against your sensitive flesh has you clenching around nothing.
Broad hands now move around your thighs to nudge you forward, a hand releasing your dress to reach for his shoulder for balance as he coaxes one of your legs up until your foot is resting on the cushion next to his hip.
Standing open for him now his hand doesn't hesitate to find your center, the vee of his fingers parting your lower lips to expose you further, and the look on his face as he takes you in makes the wet throb deepen as you quickly understand what he meant by want.
After what seems like an eternity of looking Klaue finally leans forward to touch you, pressing his lips against your swollen clit he lets the tip of his tongue flick out to nudge and slip against the sensitive bud, until with a satisfied hum his mouth drops open and envelopes you.
Soft grunts ripple through your sex, the wet heat of his mouth adding to the slick of your already dripping folds as he slides his lips and tongue between your legs until you begin to tremble, sucking and circling your clit until he finds that spot that makes your muscles go taut
Startled by how quickly pleasure is coalescing beneath the quick, circling pressure of his tongue you don’t even have a chance to get any words out before you're coming. You can only gasp and then your body is bowing forward and you're keening as the waves roll through you, a strong arm tightening around your leg to keep you where he wants you as you ride out the crest of your orgasm, holding you against his mouth until the needy movements of your hips begin to soften.
When Klaue finally pulls his mouth away he holds you steady until you manage to find your balance again, but when you remove your foot from the couch and go to take a step back his firm grip once again traps you in place.
"Where do you think you're going, darling? He frowns with a curious tilt of his head. “I'm not done yet."
Then you watch as he moves forward and slips off the couch, shifting himself down until he’s sitting on the floor in front of you with the top of his shoulders resting on the seat cushion, head raised to look up at you standing between his legs and your mind goes fuzzy when he licks his lips, making a show of tasting you.
“Oh, you want-”
“Take off your dress.” He rumbles. “Now, please.”
Feeling nearly hypnotized with want you quickly pull the garment over your head and toss it aside.
“That too,” his eyes flick to your bra, watching intently as you unclasp and discard that as well, your breath going shallow when you see the hunger in his expression deepen as he takes you in, standing naked before him. For him.
“Come here.” That irresistible command again, expectant eyes fixed on yours as he waits, unmoving.
As soon as you take a tentative step forward he leans back, licking his lips again as you slowly lift one leg and then the other until your knees are positioned on either side of his head. Bracing yourself on the back of the couch his hands slide up around your ankles, gooseflesh prickling beneath his fingers as they trail up your calves to the crooks of your knees.
Your skin heats up when you look down at him positioned between your spread thighs, but you only have a moment to dwell in any self-consciousness when Klaue tilts his mouth up and recaptures your still fluttering clit between his lips as his eyelids slip closed, an expression of contented bliss deepening the crease between his brows as though he were savoring something exquisite.
“Fuck.” You whimper at the sensation of his lips around your oversensitive bundle of nerves, yet a soft heat is quickly building again.
But then he leaves your clit, and you sigh at the sensation of his questing tongue sliding down through your folds to find your entrance. Spread open above him as you are, he easily slips the tip of his tongue into you, and you shiver when you feel his groan that vibrates through you as your release floods his tongue.
With fingers digging into your flesh he adjusts the angle of your hips so that he can slide deeper, moaning open mouthed against you as his nose presses and slides though your folds with every greedy plunge of his tongue, and you shiver when it nudges against your clit as he drinks you in, his panting breath both warm and cool against your aching nerves.
Your thoughts are already a blur when his slips out of you and uses his grip to slide your cunt along his tongue, licking a broad stripe from your hole up to your clit and back down again, and you can only whimper and sigh as he rocks you against his mouth.
With your arms starting to shake you lean further into the back of the couch, and when this changes the angle of your hips Klaue quickly takes advantage, a hand reaching back around your thigh until you feel two fingers slide into you, and while you welcome the breach it also reminds you how badly you still want his cock.
Although you also realize that was likely part of his intention, since you both know that you still have to wait.
You don’t dwell on this thought for long, however, because this angle allows him to hook his fingers, and while keeping them buried deep inside of you he starts dragging firmly against the spot that steals your breath.
Klaue grunts when your inner walls clench and your thighs tighten against his face, waves of white-hot pleasure building in your core, and you can feel how much you’re dripping down your thighs and his face, skin sliding against the rough scruff of his beard that you’re dimly aware must also be soaked.
Pulling his mouth off of you with a wet sound he stares up at you for a moment and he’s a fucking image beneath you, panting to catch his breath, looking half-drunk with eyes as glossy as his lips and chin where they’re coated in your slick.
“Taste so fucking good, darling,” he praises, voice rough with honeyed lust.
The slick squelch of his fingers is obscenely loud as he continues the curling strokes and you can only mewl helplessly, the clenching pressure spreading through you until your vision greys at the edges as you approach the brink again.
One of your hands drops to his hair, sliding your fingers into his curls and gripping tight as you lower your hips until your cunt finds his mouth again.
“Need you here.”
You’re startled by the sharp demand that bleeds through the desperation in your voice, but are with a hum of appreciation as Klaue’s mouth falls open without hesitation, his eager tongue pressing flat as you grind against it and your hips fall into their own instinctive rhythm.
His other arm tightens around your thigh, seeming to anticipate it just as your muscles string tight and the arch of your back has you unintentionally pulling away. You sob as your orgasm swells up, all your senses but touch seeming to go dim so that even though you don’t hear it the deep vibration of his growl flows out from the point where his rough and greedy tongue is pulling you apart thread by thread.
“Oh my god, please, please, I’m gonna come, please make me come-”
His name is etched on the cry that releases from your throat as you fall over the edge again, writhing and flexing against the grip that holds you firmly against his mouth as wave after wave sweeps through your body. Keeping his fingers buried, your release soaks his hand and wrist as thick fingers continue to pump into you, until with a stuttered cry it finally becomes too much and you have to pull away.
You revel in the heat of his breath on your thighs as you catch yours. Only when you start to slump does he eventually slide his fingers out of you, and it doesn’t take much to encourage you to tip to one side where you collapse on the couch a sweaty, panting mess.
While you recover Klaue slowly sits up, taking a moment to roll his neck before pulling himself to standing. Looking entirely self-satisfied and not bothering with the buttons he pulls his shirt over his head, using it to somewhat clean his face and hand before tossing it somewhere in the vicinity of your dress.
“You were so good for me, taking what you needed.” The pleased lilt in his voice along with the sight of him bare-chested and looming over you makes you shudder. “What do you think that means now?”
“That...that I get to come on your cock?” You ask, still breathless, not bothering to hide the hopefulness in your words as your eyes flick down to where you can clearly see the thick ridge of his erection straining against his half-zipped pants..
"Smart girl."
You bite your lip and flush, even now your cunt fluttering at his praise, wonton need quickly blooming again at just the thought of him filling you.
“On your hands and knees for me then, darling.” Klaue’s voice goes deep, down to that place in the bedrock that tells you he won’t be holding back much longer. "I’m going to fuck you hard, and so fucking deep until all you can do is beg to come for me again.”
“Fuck.” You can’t help your pathetic whimper. “How do you- god it drives me fucking crazy when you talk like that."
“I know it does. And how can I help it when you make sounds like that for me.”
Feeling like you’re glowing, anticipation builds high in your chest as you shift so that you're kneeling long-ways on the cushions. The feral curl of his lips makes you both cower and clench as he drops down a knee to the couch, the other booted foot staying planted on the floor as he positions himself behind you, the muscles of his chest and arms flexing as he roughly works his pants down.
You gasp as he suddenly half-lifts half-pulls you back towards him, and when you feel the brush of his cock hot and achingly hard against the back of your thighs you Instinctively arch your back, tilting your hips to unabashedly open yourself up for him. Knowing he can see the slick shine of what he’s already done to you coating your sex and the insides of your thighs.
“Ohh, and you think I’m filthy. Look at this pretty mess of a cunt, just begging to be filled.” Klaue purrs, gripping his length in one hand and sliding the head through your folds. “You want me to come in it, don’t you? Make even more of a mess.”
“God yes, I want you to come so fucking deep. Need to feel it again.” You whine as his delicious girth starts to press into you, one hand firm on your hip, the other sliding up to your shoulder.
“Oh, you need it, do you?” He teases, his words the rough slide of stone against stone. "Is that what you thought about, klein mot?"
“Yes. Every fucking day.” You turn to look back at him, your eyes imploring. “Please, Ulysses.”
His name becomes a desperate keen, the ache of relief flooding through you as he finally starts to press into you again.
“Fuck, that sound is even better,” he grits as your muscles give in, stretching open around him.
Keeping his hips nearly still, Klaue uses his grip on your shoulder to pull you back onto his cock in a slow, relentless plunge, and when you look back over your shoulder you see that his eyes are fixed on where you’re joined, his heated gaze as firm as the grip of his fingers on your hip.
You’re getting impatient, though, and you can’t help it: as you watch the mesmerized expression on his face, chest heaving rough breaths as you take his cock, you wiggle your hips, making a little show of taking him another inch, inhaling a sharp hiss through your teeth when his grip tightens.
“Stay still.” He rasps, clearly picking up on your tease, yet his voice is somehow desperately soft, soothing you even as his fingers dig harshly into your shoulder. “Shh, don’t worry, darling, you're going to take all of it.”
You can only whimper and clench hard around him, the tremble of your muscles deepening as you resist your body’s desire to arch and writhe in response to his words and his touch, biting your lower lip so hard that you taste copper.
But somehow you manage to keep still.
Once Klaue senses your acquiescence he rewards you with a rhythmic, rolling motion of his hips that slides him deeper, deeper, until you feel the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against your heated skin, and with a final, less controlled thrust his hips finally comes flush against your ass.
For a moment he pauses, breathing heavily but otherwise not moving, simply keeping himself buried in you and you revel in the feeling of being stretched and filled with him, agonizingly aware of every twitch of his cock against your walls.
An unbearable lust fills you, and you’re not sure how much longer you can stand it when the hand on your shoulder slides along your waist and over the soft swell of your hip, and then he's spreading you open to get a better view of where he’s buried, where you yield more easily to him now.
Keeping you like this he pulls most of the way out of you before slowly sliding back in, and you know that he can feel fresh waves of arousal soaking him, can see it slicking his length as he moves. And even when he begins to thrust more quickly he also seems to be intentionally avoiding setting a rhythm, his movements stay just off-kilter enough to hold you back from the edge, first sliding into you in slow, deep strokes, making sure you feel all of him, then shifting to shallower thrusts, pulling back until just the head of his cock is teasing your hole.
“Oh my god, more-” You nearly sob, no care whatsoever to hide your desperation.
“Patience, my darling, you’ll get it.” Klaue’s voice is shot through with a distracted awe, his fingers tightening in response when you try to move against him again. “You’ll be begging soon enough.”
You’ve been focusing on keeping yourself upright but your wrists are getting stiff and your arms are starting to shake, so when he suddenly drives deep again your arms go out from under you and with the unexpected shift he slips forward, rutting even deeper and you both moan in surprise.
Catching himself he braces his hands on either side of your body before pulling back and thrusting again. Suddenly being buried in you seems to have severed the last of his control and he sets a steady pace now, the snap of his hips wet and loud every time he bottoms out as a heady pressure quickly blooms deep and incandescent.
Aching to brush your fingers against your clit you move to reach down between your legs, but he must notice you shifting, your hands scrabbling lower as your muscles start to tighten around him.
“Keep your hands where they are. You’re going to come like this, yeah?” Your hand freezes at his growled words.
“Going to have to fuck me harder, then.”
You can’t help the taunt even though you’re barely able to get the stuttered words out through how hard he’s already fucking you, how close you are to coming entirely apart.
Suddenly you feel him shift and a hand is pressing down between your shoulders, the other leaning into the back of your hip, and then what seems like the full weight of him is braced against you and you lose all control of your body as he finally starts to fuck you, hard. Your knees slide back as he pushes you down into the cushions, and you can barely breathe as he drives into you, your eyes squeezing shut so hard tears escape between your lashes and dampen the rough fabric beneath your cheek.
His brutal rhythm has your thoughts lost, and you’re half aware that you're proving him right because now you're begging, a barely coherent string of pleasepleaseplease driven from your lips with every jolt against your body.
Pinned beneath the relentless weight of him you’re unable to do anything but succumb, overwhelmed by the breathless thrill of realization that all you have to do is let him take you, let him take care of you, and he does - each stroke of his cock assuaging every ache of frustration of the last twelve days, soothing every memory of your own fingers failing to satisfy you while you waited.
“Come for me, mot, just like that, god-”
The heat of your climax focuses to a point and breaks open deep inside of you as everything goes hazy and bright at once. Every muscle in your body strung tight as he hits the deepest part of you and you’re dimly aware of your cries as you come harder than you thought you could, Klaue’s thrusts not letting up as he continues to fuck you until you you can only mumble curses in gasps and sobs.
"So fucking good for me," Klaue pants, the hard, steady rhythm going rough and desperate as the control behind his thrusts wavers. “Going to make you take all of it.”
On the next thrust he stills suddenly, fully buried in you until with a choked groan and another jerk of his hips you feel the hard throb as he comes, the roll of his hips causing your back to arch as he continues to press as deep as he can, and you moan in relief when you feel his spend filling you with every pulse of his cock, the last tight waves of your own orgasm drawing every last drop.
Finally he collapses, draping himself over your back, sweat slicking your bodies as his lips trail wet kisses along the back of your neck and eliciting a whimpered cry then his teeth find the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, your pussy twitching as his teeth nip and worry at the spot before sliding his tongue, warm and soothing over the reddened flesh.
Shifting his hips Klaue pulls back out just an inch or two, hissing through his teeth from the overstimulation but then moaning louder than you do when he slides back in and you feel his cum and yours leaking out, feel the sticky slide of it where he’s pressed against you, the sensation tangling exquisitely with his rough whisper against your ear.
Perfect fucking mess.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Sitting up in bed with a book propped open on your bent knees you’re attempting to read, but the lines of text keep going blurry as a familiar exhaustion starts to overtake you.
Your thoughts instead slip back to standing in the shower with him, water rinsing the soap from your bodies, exchanging glances and brushes of wet skin as you move around each other in the small space.
Standing under the hot spray you could see that even though he had in fact washed with your regular soap there was still considerable smudging on his hands and arms.
“This stuff is rather strong. I don’t want to subject you to that.” Klaue grins, holding up the bottle he'd brought with him which says something about charcoal, an aggressively orange scent filling the humid space as soon as he twists it open.
“Oof, yeah ok,” you laugh and begrudgingly step out of the shower, catching him watching you out of the corner of your eye as you grab a towel and slide the door shut.
You’d been surprised when he told you he would meet you back here after picking up the soap, but you’d tried to keep from seeming outwardly pleased. At first you assumed it was because he just needed to use the shower and your bunk happened to be closer, but when you open the door you see that he’d also brought a change of clothes, so he had gone back to his room anyway.
Still, there must be some other reason. The likelihood of more sex seems the most obvious, you suppose, not that that’s a bad thing. After all you’d certainly been hoping to take advantage of however long he’ll be here this time, and you try to focus on that thought instead, rather than worrying about the why.
So now you sit on your bed and wait in a fresh t-shirt and underwear, attempting to read but more accurately re-reading the same couple of sentences as you quickly lose the battle against your fluttering eyelids, drifting as you hear the water shut off…
…your head snaps up when Klaue emerges from the bathroom, raising his arms in a small ‘ta-da’ gesture.
You can’t help but grin as you take him in, all damp skin and ink and untamed curls falling across his forehead, but your tongue flicks out to wet your lips when your eyes wander to the towel that’s tucked around his waist, and isn’t currently leaving very much to the imagination.
He smirks when he sees where your eyes are directed and you fail to bite back a smile as he makes his way over to sit on the edge of your bed, but as he comes level with you he tilts his head, the crease between his brows deepening.
“You look tired, mot.”
“Nooo, I’m fine..” you protest, although it doesn’t sound convincing even to your own ears, and when his hand reaches up to your face you can’t help but press your cheek into his warm palm, humming as a sliver of bliss slides through your chest, and the last thing you’re aware of is the book suddenly vanishing from your grasp.
* * *
You feel fuzzy and disoriented.
You’re pretty sure someone just spoke but you couldn’t guess what they’d said.
"I have to go soon, darling." Klaue repeats, strong fingers slowly massaging your shoulder.
You hear him this time but you still feel like you're a bit sideways, partly because that means that he’s still here, but also because you seem to have tucked yourself against his side, both hands curled beneath your chin and a leg slung across his thigh.
"How-” The first word catches and you clear your throat. “How long was I asleep?" You mumble, one hand rubbing your bleary eyes.
"About an hour."
“What??” You squeak, raising your head suddenly. “That can’t be right, I feel like..I feel like I’ve been asleep for a day.”
“I’m not surprised, you practically fell asleep right in my hands,” he chuckles.
Gradually you start to accept that he must be right when you notice he seems to have been reading the book that you'd been failing to read before you apparently passed out, and that he’s also still just wearing the same towel as earlier.
You suppose you could just get your phone to check for certain, but it’s still in your bag and that would mean leaving the firm warmth of his chest, and you can't seem to drag your eyes away from the broad swath of skin right in front of your eyes, or the soft curl of hair that trails across it and down his abdomen. Down beneath the fabric that’s still, unfortunately, tucked at his waist.
Laying your head back down you give yourself a moment to get your bearings, trying to solidify in your mind both that it's actually still today, and that Klaue is once again in your bed.
“Something the matter?” He asks, perhaps noticing your stillness.
“No, no I’m fine. I just.." Maybe it's because you're still only half awake and your filter isn't all the way in place yet, but decide to just be honest. "I guess I’m surprised you’re still here. Once you showered I figured you would have gone on your way, especially after I passed out on you.” You smile sheepishly.
“Well, I didn’t want to just leave if I didn’t have to,” you feel him shrug. ”Though, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to wake you," he teases.
“That, uh, happened last time, too.” You huff a laugh. “I just crashed as soon as you left.”
Thoughts of exactly what had exhausted you so thoroughly float to the front of your mind, and when your hips twitch of their own accord you’re suddenly and acutely aware that your clothed mound is pressed against his leg, just below where the towel ends.
Your breathing shallows, and though he doesn’t say anything you feel the broad muscle of his thigh flex as it presses against you and you reflexively arch into him as your leg tightens around his.
You chance a look up at him from beneath your eyelashes, bashful at your body's swift reaction until you see the knowing look in his eyes, smug when you moan softly and rock your hips in response to another firm press of his thigh.
Keeping your eyes on his you slide your hand slowly towards the towel, your heart rate speeding up when you see a dark shadow flit across the blue as your fingers play along the edge of the soft fabric.
"You have to go?" You sigh, pleased when you feel the muscles of his stomach tense beneath your fingers.
If he does then he’s going to have to tell you to stop - soon - the wet ache quickly spreading between your legs as you continue to slowly grind against his thigh, but then his hand is moving down your back and over the swell of your ass.
“So needy again already. I haven’t made you come enough tonight, is that it? Poor thing." Klaue tsks, his hand slipping beneath the edge of your underwear, and tugging down.
Taking that as his answer you don't waste another second, unhooking yourself you push the garment down and off of your legs as he finally untucks that damn towel, and you’ve barely turned back toward him when he grips your legs and lifts you until you’re straddling him before quickly divesting you of your t-shirt as well.
You start to press up off of your knees, expecting to feel his cock against your entrance, but instead his hands keep you pressed firmly down against him.
“I didn’t say stop.” His low words and stiffening cock both slide between your legs.
His hands move to cup your breasts as you start to move your hips, dragging your entrance along the velvety heat of his cock until the length of him is becoming slick with your arousal, and for several moments he watches appreciatively where he’s sliding through your folds, your hips bucking suddenly when his thumbs brush over the sensitive peaks of your nipples.
“God, I need you.” The rhythm of your hips grows quicker now. “Need you inside me.”
"Use me then, darling. Make yourself come and I'll fuck you again.”
You whimper as he rolls your nipples between thumb and forefinger, your hips tilting to find more of the slick friction against his now fully hard shaft, losing yourself as both sensations collide and collect somewhere at the base of your spine, your lips parting in a plaintive moan as you chase the crest of your orgasm.
“Look at me.” Klaue rasps.
You hear is words but you’re fading into the inevitable shimmer of pleasure as your hips find a tight rhythm, your senses tuned to focused points, fixed on the rough but soothing brush of chest hair beneath your palms, on every ridge and vein of his cock as it slides against your clit.
So you gasp when your chin is suddenly trapped in the viselike grip of his fingers, forcing you to meet his eyes as his voice drops low.
“I didn’t get to see your face before. So this time I need you to look at me when you come.”
Your focus snaps back to him and you’re startled by the look of reverence on his face, panting open mouthed as you rut against him, the hot blue flame of his eyes fixed on you as your climax overwhelms you and you surrender to the curl of his lips around your name.
Lost in the pulsing waves you feel urgent hands lift your writhing hips and position you over his cock, the trembling muscles of your thighs unable to hold you up at all now so that you can’t help but sink down onto him at the same time that he thrusts up, the stretch of him easier now but the ache deeper as he pushes inside of your still clenching walls.
Then he plants his feet and bends his knees, the sudden shift knocking you forward as he starts to fuck up into you, no waiting now, no teasing. An arm wraps tight around your waist as his other reaches up to slide a hand into your hair, fingers tightening until the delicious sting is singing through your nerves.
“Love the way your tight cunt squeezes my cock.” The rough warmth of his words finds its way through the still roiling pleasure. “So good at taking my cum.”
Tears prick at your eyes as your bliss-dazed body relents to the deep, driving rhythm, and you’re barely able to brace yourself to meet his thrusts.
“Would you like to be good for me again?” Klaue’s pants roughly.
“Yesss.” you whine, overwhelmed at how even though he’s beneath you, somehow you still feel pinned in place.
“Try that again, darling.”
“Please,” you sob, “fill my pussy. I wanna be so fucking good for you, please-”
Releasing your hair his hand moves to grip the base of your neck instead, holding you firmly in place as you look down into his face, his eyes nearly black with lust, full lips parted as he pants and you can’t help but taste them, your mouth roughly finding his in a messy swirl of tongues and teeth that’s as much a kiss as a desperate attempt to find the breath that he seems to have stolen from you.
Both of his thick arms wrap around your waist now and you simply try to hold on as he pounds into you, filling you again and again, and when you drop your face to his neck his skin is scorching hot below the spot where his scruff rubs against your cheek.
You ache to feel him let go again, and as his thrusts become sharper and more desperate your words come out in a stuttered plea against this neck.
“Come for me. Please, Ulysses.”
Klaue’s breathing goes ragged, and then his entire body tenses until with a shudder and a guttural moan you feel the warmth of his cum spreading inside you again, bliss swirling through you as you helplessly grind your hips to keep him buried as deep as possible.
The whisper of your name from his lips has you grateful that his arms are still holding you tight against him so that you can’t look into his eyes now, uncertain of what you might see there.
Still reeling from the look on his face as he held your chin in his hand and watched you unravel above him.
Still processing the word he'd spoken earlier, perhaps not even realizing it.
“Patience, my darling..”
My darling.
His.
For now you can only hope that he wants to keep touching you, because now that he has, you realize that he seems to have found some disparate elements of you that you didn’t know were separate until he was piecing them together with every brush of his lips and his hands and his words against your skin until you can’t help but feel anything but whole.