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his arms wrap ‘round her middle, pulling her close against him, and he lowers his nose to breathe in the scent of her hair, her perfume — even so, when he murmurs her name, it’s with a note of hesitance.
“don’t think about it,” she says. pats his forearm reassuringly, letting fingers trail over the soft hair upon it before hand comes to rest over his own. they stand like that, silent, hearts beating in time, for what feels like hours before she turns round and rests her forehead against his. “don’t think about it,” she repeats, and this time, a silent "just do it" hangs in the inches of air between them.
when their lips meet, it’s tentative at first, a mere brush of contact. she is the one who deepens it into something that could, in good conscience, be called a real kiss, pushing forward just enough that her lips now caress his lower one. it is still gentle, and it is still slow, but it is something.
his hands move up to cup her jaw as he moans softly into her mouth. it is as good a sign as any that he wants more, and she is eager to oblige, given the way she leans into him to press their bodies flush together as tongue flicks over his lower lip, over his teeth, over his own tongue. she tastes like the orange juice she drank when they arrived home from shopping earlier.
as her hands wander from his cheeks to his neck to his shoulders and lower still, his body reacts to her touch, goosebumps on his arms when she slips her fingers under his shirt, suddenly skin-on-skin. they disentangle just long enough to undress, her in nothing at all, him in his boxer briefs — he wants to pause then, wants to pour his gaze over her body and drink in the look of her, but more than that he wants her in his arms. this time when they kiss, there is no doubt remaining about their mutual hunger, and she rocks her hips against his, certainly aware by now of the hard bulge in his underwear.
she moans his name against his mouth when his hands come to rest upon her breasts — round and firm, topped with pert rosebud nipples. thumb and forefinger pinch one, bringing a surprised squeal from her lips; he chuckles and does it again, this time eliciting a pleasured hum. they sink to the ground, a tangle of limbs. he could kiss and touch and nibble her like this for hours, but god, he wants her badly.
it is she that tugs at the waistband of his boxer briefs, wrangles them down his legs for him to kick them off from her place half on top of him; once he’s rid of the garment, she slips a hand between them to grasp his cock, which brings a heady groan from deep in his throat. “i want you,” she murmurs against his neck, pressing kisses to the sensitive skin there as she gives him a preliminary squeeze and stroke.
in response, he only groans again, pulling her thigh over his lap and settling her on top of him. she slides the tip of his cock between her lips, and, fuck, he hadn’t realized how wet she is until now, until her juices are dripping down the length of him. he pushes his hips upward as she sinks down on him, taking him inside her, and both of them close their eyes and tilt heads back and moan in synchronicity. usually, they have to be quiet. too risky to be otherwise. just now, though, they are alone in the house and the bath is running in the background to stifle their sounds and to hear her pleasure in full is simply delicious.
she does not waste time with warming him up; when she rides him, it’s hard and fast, taking him deeper and deeper as he meets her thrust for thrust. he sucks one of her nipples into his mouth, humming in pleasure around it; she gasps and tangles her fingers in his hair, keeping him there, keeping him close.
“more,” she moans, and he cannot possibly deny that request. pulls out of her just long enough to flip her onto her back ( reaches over to turn off the bath water first, lest it run over ) and enter her again. she hooks one leg over his shoulder, letting him penetrate her still deeper than before, and wraps the other around his waist.
he fucks her hard and fast, relishing every little noise she makes, every flutter of her eyelids and touch of her fingertips. currently, her nails are dug into his shoulderblades, keeping his body close to hers. all too soon, he feels that familiar warmth building up deep inside him, knows he’s close. “where do you want it?” he manages through pants and gasps for breath.
“inside me,” she answers with no hesitation to speak of. “oh, fuck, come inside me. i want to feel it.” and the fervor of her words is enough to push him over the edge; body stills as he spills his seed, eyes closed, a lock of hair flopping over his forehead. it seems the feel of it was enough to bring her to climax, too, from the way she gasps his name and clenches around him, pulling him down till their bodies are pressed flush together, sweat and saliva and cum mingling between them.
they stay like that a while. heart rates return to normal, or at least close to it, and he pulls out of her, leaving sticky cum and juices on her thighs — but they stay like that, his weight over hers, arms entangled, content simply to be so close. content in knowing there's an entire week of this uninhibited closeness ahead of them. and he’s following her advice from earlier: he isn’t thinking about it.
he’s just enjoying it.