It's You [H.S.]

11.5 | You're it

Sprawled on the floor, they remain entwined, just breathing each other in.

Holding tight and with hands scrabbling for even closer purchase, they find reassurance in each other's thumping heartbeat.

They're otherwise silent, bar rogue sighs, sniffs, hiccups, and sobs.

Minutes pass, and neither makes any move to let go.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

Awkwardly bent up, with one foot underneath her and one planted by his hip, she unfurls her long legs. Stretching them out, of quite their own accord, they end up sliding around his torso to cross tightly behind his back.

As her shifting hips inadvertently meet some resistance, she cranes her neck back, looking at him wide eyed.

"Fuck, I'm sorry!", he blushes. "It's, well, it's you... And it's been four months. I just can't believe you're here... But I'm sorry, that's fucking embarrassing. I'm not some horny teenager. And-".

"H?", she cuts him off.

"Hmm?", he reaches up to thumb the tears from her cheeks.

"Can you kiss me? I need you to kiss me", she whispers, eyes dropping to his inviting pink lips.

There's a whine of longing from low in his throat, even as his lips tug into an irresistible smirk.

Surging in, he just catches himself.

Raking his fingers through her bobbed hair to comb it back from her face, he then strokes his thumbs over her jaw and neck, gazing at her in disbelief.

Fluttering her eyes closed, she whimpers softly, at both his touch, and the effort to keep her hips still.

As he leans in slowly, she gasps at the feel of his breath hitting her lips, readily parting them, in invitation.

Her hands grapple him closer, tracing the defined muscles of his back, rippling as he shifts and strains to hold himself back.

Leaning closer still, to rub his nose gently up and down hers, she mewls.

That noise alone crumbles the last of his resolve, and he finally surges forward.

>

How can one person feel like home?

Familiar pillowing, pressing, hungry lips.

Sliding, stroking, silky tongues.

Irresistible sighs, hums, whimpers.

Needy, tugging, frenzied hands.

Chests, hips, hearts melding.

Home.

Oh, God, why can't he seem to stop kissing and touching her?

She's addictive, and he's binging hard after painstaking withdrawals.

It leaves him light-headed.

And, breathless, she lets out another sob. Overcome with emotion, her racking shiver rattles against his frame.

As he pulls back, just enough to be able to gaze into her watery eyes, he feels her tighten her arms around him, in desperate need of grounding.

But the look he sees flash fleetingly in her eyes makes him shiver a bit too.

Is that uncertainty? Pain? Regret?

But it's gone just as quickly; replaced with a look he has no trouble recognising.

Hunger.

She pounces.

Wrapping her long, lean, surprisingly strong legs even tighter around him, intentionally canting her hips, she surges closer and captures his lips hotly.