𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 | 𝟏𝟖+

𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 | 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒

ততততত

𝐈 𝐌 𝐎 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍

Hard kisses leave bruised lips, and unspoken words that linger on the tips of our meshed tongues somehow become deciphered through a mystery of woven limbs. He holds me down, fingers scathing every plane of my body as our lips fight for dominance, for victory, for the end of our internal wars.

Time slows as he pulls away from a kiss, humid breaths passing between us as my drowsy eyes open to meet the brown hues of his own. His chafed clothes stick to his skin—his tanned, honey brown complexion. My fingers scrape through the wrinkles in his shirt, feeling the texture of his hard toned body beneath, and he closes his eyes.

"Mine," he breathes, almost inaudible. It's as if he never wanted me to hear the confession that dances the edge of his tongue—"mine"—although I do not belong to him.

Tobin is a moment, and I cling to him not ever wanting to part. As I raise my body from the mattress to meet his, I strengthen the cord that binds us, so tight that I never want our knot to undo. He isn't my yesterday, and the stars forbid him to be my tomorrow, but he is my today. My night. My now.

I weave a fist into his tunic, smirking against his kiss. "Off with this."

He bites down on my bottom lip, leaving it swollen as he backs away.

"As you wish, princess," he grins.

He stands on his knees, his body towering over mine as if I were his shadow. He hungrily licks his lips, tasting the remnants of my kiss, before setting his hands on the hem of his shirt. In one graceless movement, he pries it away to reveal sunkissed flesh. Exposed, he tosses the shirt off the bed.

In the moonlight, the contours of him detail every hard surface. Small scars etch his flesh, including one large one that spans across his pec down to his hip bone. Even then, there's inked runes on his heart like tattoos, an ancient script that even I cannot recognize. Nothing about Tobin is soft, nothing but that muscle that beats within his chest. Prominent blue veins frame him, tight and glorious—until my gaze catches the hem of his trousers.

I gulp at the sight of him. He's so worked up that his erection aims right towards me and threatens to break through his pants.

Our gazes meet, his eyes kinder than before, as he lowers himself against my body. I still dress in a thin underdress and undergarments, still enough clothes to let his imagination run wild. I part my legs around him, welcoming him into my personal space.

Before Tobin steals a lust-drunk kiss, I place my palm against the black ink over his heart. "What does this say?"

His brown eyes glance over to place where my touch connects with his skin. "Lost time is never found again." He opens his mouth to speak more, but refrains. Those six words mean something to him, something that I know he won't dare unravel.

My hand combs back messy cowlicks of chestnut hair. He leans towards me, yearning to connect to get his mind off the inked words I forced him to decipher. His lips brush up against mine, tender at first, then steals what any thief would: a kiss. His voice growls from his throat in such a low timbre that I clench my parted legs around his body.

His calloused palm brushes the inside of my thigh, pulling my leg apart wider than before. His fingertip trails wisps upward, his touch drawing vines towards a core that throbs in need of release.

The kiss ends as he takes a hold of my jaw, forcing my gaze to meet his eyes.

"How dare I kiss those lips that call me a 'petty thief'," he scoffs in a playful tone.