Warning!
mature scenes ahead.
She had always understood that Michael was evil, even if it was hard to believe. He was the son of satan, after all, the fallen—venomous apple. There were times were she could see sparks in him where it would show, though it was rare. His temper would change in a matter of seconds, or his eyes would gleam in a fiery rage. But, it was rare. He was soft with her, gentle. He was her night in shining armor, with an occasional bad temper, of course.
Though now, with the feeling of warm, sticky blood covering her body, the slither of snakes in her ears and the boiling of her veins, she could finally see the root of his evil. As he penetrated inside of her, her back arching off the floor as a snake curled around her ankle, she could see the boy with the white, demonic face that Cordelia Goode had preached about.
However, it did not scare her, only intrigued and fascinated her. It should have been wrong, it was so wrong, but she couldn't help her bodily reactions. She could feel their souls interlock, his evil pouring into her as her vision went blank. Her ears popped, her veins sizzled and it felt like her bones had been snapped in two. But it only lasted for a blimp of a second, and her body trembled as she came, her mind being reborn.
*Five hours earlier*
She didn't realize how much she had needed sleep until she woke up, drool on her pillow and body dehydrated. She blinked away her sleep, rubbing her face as she adjusted to the candle light. Those damned things, she thought. She was convinced the building had a lifetime supply of them, because no room was ever without them. She smiled to herself, remembering the multiple dreams she had of Michael, and slowly sat up as she took in her room.
As she sat there, she went back to her time with him that night, remembering how he had teased and begged her to give herself to him. He needed...time, he had said. Needed to prepare whatever it was that he had planned. She bit her thumbnail, focused on a candle as she thought. It was exciting, but she was incredibly nervous. He hadn't plainly said it, but she wasn't stupid. He wanted her to sell her soul to him, and she had dreamed of it all night, her mind trying to figure out what he was planning.
He'd surprise her, no doubt; he always seemed to.
Yawning, she stood from her bed, not being able to help the excited smile on her face. Though it wasn't perfect, she had been happier than ever, and she often caught the muscles of her face sore from smiling so much. It was him, of course. She was nothing without him, lifeless.
She made her bed with a hop in her step, humming Clair De Lune as she fluffed her pillows. She was in high anticipation, waiting until she had given him enough time. Which, she didn't know how much that was. But, Michael being Michael, would surely have a way to gain her attention when needed; he always had before.
Her dreams had become suddenly active, conjuring up memories of her old life or moments with him. Sometimes she'd dream of Helena, remembering her snorting laugh or motherly hug. However, that was the old Helena, a woman she hadn't seen in a very long time. Sometimes Charlie would appear, although rare. She missed him terribly, and often wished that Michael could have met the man who raised her. But, maybe it was well and good that he hadn't, given she was sleeping with the spawn of satan.
She chuckled at the thought, twirling around to make her way to the bathroom. She didn't know what to expect from her lover, so she made sure to go all out. She cleaned her body of grime, washing her curly hair as it bounced against the water. She slipped on a black dress, simple— yet eloquent. She was utterly tired of purple now.
She slipped diamond earrings into her ears, along with a tiny, matching necklace that was cool against her chest. She smiled at herself, taking pride in her charming appearance. She could hear the clanking of dinnerware and the argument's leaving Coco's voice from outside of her room, and she rolled her eyes lightly as she sat on the leather sofa. Why, dear god, of all people— did Michael have to save her? Hell, they were all basket cases. Well, minus Gallant. She liked him.
She had time to kill, so she pranced around the room with Little Women in her hands, trying to focus on the words rather than the night ahead of her. And it had worked for the most part, until she walked straight into the wall and nearly broke her nose. She was anxious and excited all at once, and before she knew it, she wound up in Gallant's room again, listening to him rant about his hatred for Evie and Coco.
"Listen, I get that I might have something to offer this "new world" or whatever, but why them?" Gallant whined, his hands playing with Ana's hair. "Nana is an old bitch who lies to make everyone envy her, and Coco is just an entitled skank. Out of all the people in the world, why them? Why not Carrie Underwood or Daniel Radcliffe?"
She smirked as he tugged on her air, looking behind her shoulder. "I didn't take you for country music."
He shrugged his shoulders with an annoyed sigh. "I'm not, but I like her hair. And Daniel..well, he's just hot. I always liked him in Harry Potter. Even wrote a gay fanfiction between him and Draco when I was in eighth grade!" He laughed, making Ana cringe with a smile.
"Jesus, Gallant. That's-"
"Amazing, I know." He smirked proudly.
"I wouldn't exact say that, but alright." She shook her head, resting her chin against her palms. "I always preferred the Twilight movies."
He scoffed behind her loudly, making her narrow her eyes. "Of course, you'd like Twilight. You've always had that depressing, emo vibe that you've given off. Sorta like Bella in New Moon."
"No, I don't." She defended, staring down at the floor.
The blonde laughed, working through her curls with a gentle ease. "Whatever, Bella. I never cared much for those movies, all Edward and her ever did was stare at each other."
Yeah, that was true. She had watched the movies many of times with her old friend, Jacky; whom she hadn't thought of in years. It should of saddened her, knowing she was now dead. That sweet, lovestruck, hopeless romantic with the butterfly clips in her hair. But it didn't, and she shook her head with a sigh. "Well, I think it's romantic. Sometimes it's hard to come up with anything to say when someone...so beautiful is in front of you. It takes your breath away." She smiled lightly to herself, no longer thinking of the vampire boy, rather her evil boy.
"Fuck, you're whipped, Anastasia." Gallant breathed, letting go of her hair as he moved toward the end of the couch. "You sound like a damn Hallmark card." He propped his feet up on her lap.
"I am not." She chuckled awkwardly. "You know nothing about me and Michael. Everyone around here acts like they do." She shook her head, fiddling with her fingers.
He cocked a brow, amused by her words. "So there is something going on between you two? Ha! I knew it!" He laughed. "I mean, you guys aren't exactly quiet, you know? But you always deny it anytime someone asks."
She didn't know why she did it, she just didn't like the confrontation. Everyone in the building was sure that she was sleeping with him just for a spot in the sanctuary, and she didn't like the angry glares that were directed towards her in the hallways. Even though with every second spent with him was bringing her back to her old self, she still in some ways remained in that shy shell of hers, bound by the ropes of anxiety. "Well, can you blame me?" She shrugged her shoulders. "I try to avoid Venable at all costs. I swear one day she's going to cane me with that ugly walking stick of hers'." She cringed, remembering their last encounter. "And Coco..well, you know how I feel about her."
Gallant listened to her words with interest, flexing his ringed fingers. "You sound defensive." He noted, gaining her attention. "I take it whatever is going on is...serious?"
She looked away, her lips parting. He didn't know the half of it. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." She gave in, no longer caring.
~~~
She could feel it in the air the moment he was ready for her, and her body tensed with goosebumps as her tired eyes awakened. It was like time had slowed, the wood of the building around her creaking together. It was almost scary, and she rose from her bed as she looked toward the door. It was mechanical, the feeling inside her, and she walked like a tired zombie out the door, fixing the sleeve of her purple, sleek robe to wrap around her body. Her breath hitched in her throat, her feet cold against the hardwood floor.
It had been several hours since Gallant had ended their conversation, and had fallen asleep quite quickly. She didn't know the time now, but she didn't really care. She gave a knock on his door, quickly entering and closing it as she turned the lock. She didn't know why she always knocked, considering the amount of time she spent in there, but it felt awkward not to.
"Michael?" She whispered, eyeing the empty room. She hugged herself, biting her nail nervously. She didn't know the process one had to do to sell ones soul, and even though she trusted Michael completely, she felt scared. He wasn't in the room, and she walked toward the center as she glanced around. She could feel him, like a magnet was in her stomach, pulling her toward him. Her eyes went to the big, tall doors that slid open, and she slowly walked toward them.
Her eyes shined with an orange glow when she slid them open, her face growing warm from the flames of candles around the room. The smell of blood was strong and thick, her eyes wide at the satanic symbol drawn on the floor. The energy was evil, the iron scent of blood and the candles that resembled hell fire. Though, she wasn't repulsed, only in awe. "Boo." She jumped, his lips against her ear as his hands curled against her stomach.
She gasped quietly, relaxing into him as she looked over her shoulder. "You scared me."
He hummed, kissing her neck. He could feel the slight fear that radiated off of her, and he kissed her to help calm her nerves. Ana blinked, looking back around the room. "Quite the set up you have here." She forced a chuckle.
He smirked, his hands going to her thighs. "And how do you feel about it?" He moved her until she was pressed right up against him, hIs check pressed against hers as his hands rubbed her hips.
She blushed, biting her cheek awkwardly. She didn't know what to think of it, or what he was going to do. Would she be slaughtered like some pig and be reincarnated? Like said before, she trusted Michael, but that was a little much. She jumped when he closed the door, the loud slam burning her ears as she swallowed. "Well,"
"No need to be so scared, darling." He smirked, turning her waist to see her eyes. He gripped her chin, moving them toward the center of the symbol. "You trust me, right?"
She nodded instantly. "I do. I just...how exactly does this work?" She looked around.
He chuckled, tracing her jaw. "Then let me walk you through it." He pulled her close, making her gasp. "Firstly," He began, curling an arm around her waist. "I'm going to kiss you, and then I'm going to lower you to the ground and take off those cute little panties you've got on." His hand played with the string of her robe, speaking slowly and seductively to her blushed face. "I'm going to cut your hand," He held her palm, drawing an invisible line against her skin. "And while your blood is mixing with mine," He pressed his nose against hers. "I'm going to fuck you."
There was a lot he left out, but the minor details didn't matter, per-say. Her heart was pounding, her forehead shining in perspiration as she gulped. She sniffled, her knees weak as she tried taking in his words. "Oh." She forced, having nothing else to say. She really did trust him, but she was having difficulty processing what was happening. The energy around him felt different, and yet, it felt entirely the same. She could the bitter feeling of evil, and as hard as it was to believe, it was from him.
And when the racing of her heart was almost all he could hear, he frowned. His movements on her jaw stopped, and he lowered it to her shoulder. "You do want this, correct?" He narrowed his eyes, hearing her racing thoughts. "If you don't, tell me, and all of this will go away." He shook his head, speaking firmly.
"I want this." She rushed, holding his shirt. "I do, I do, I just-" She cringed as she looked down, fighting off her inner turmoil. "Fuck." She groaned, making his eyes grow wide in confusion. For a moment, he thought she might cry, recognizing the frustration in her voice. He held her by the elbows, waiting for her words. "I'm sorry." She looked up. "I'm sorry, forget it. I'm fine, let's just do this." And she really did want this, but she was terrified, a sick feeling in her stomach.
He didn't like her rambling, her rushed words of dismissal. He could feel that it's what she wanted, but her words sure as hell didn't sound that way. "No." He shook his head. "Tell me what's wrong."
She sighed, looking down as she shuffled. He gripped her chin and forced her back up, a stern and confused look in his eye. "Anastasia." He spoke firmly.
"I don't know-" She swallowed, blinking rapidly. "I'm just..scared, and I know that's stupid because I want to do this."
The shifting raptures of her body were mixing together. There were two parts of her, the one with Michael, and the one without. Her body without him had grown into an anxious, fearful, shy little shell that hid from society. With him, she was bright and full of life, higher on love then a damn kite. They were clashing together now, making her feel sick from her confused feelings. When she felt a tear fall down her face, she wanted to smash her head against the wall in embarrassment.
She sniffled, his eyes narrowing at her tears. "Are you sure you don't want me to take another spell or something?" Her voice shook slightly, a light shrug of her shoulders.
His eyes darkened for a mere moment, and he gripped her waist almost painfully. "No." He said forcefully, a strong shake of his head. "No more spells."
Maybe it was hypocritical to say that, given what he had planned for them to do, but he didn't like her taking those spells. He remembered that night Miriam had forced it down her thought, the night she had caught him in a murderous act at the satanic church. She shouldn't have to change or adjust her feelings. It was one thing to do it for her own sanity, but he knew she only had his desires in her head. And he most definitely didn't want her downing spell after spell like a drunken teenager.
She gulped roughly, her eyes shining as his hand cupped her cheek. "You don't need to be embarrassed about feeling scared. It's a human emotion, Anastasia. You're human." He spoke softly, yet firmly, his face close to hers. "I like you just the way you are, you don't need to change."
He moved to press himself against her, their bodies now glued together like magnets. He kept his eyes on hers, his nose brushing the shell of her ear. "Sweet," He kissed her lobe. "Shy," His lips ghosted over hers, an airy breath leaving her quivering lips. She gasped when his hand slipped under her dress, cupping her pussy with a light squeeze. "Soft."
She moaned softly, leaning into him as he held her back. He grew painfully hard against her, his erection prodding against her thigh. "How many times do I have to say it?" He murmured. "It doesn't matter what you look like or what you say, how you act or how you think I feel, nothing is ever going to change my love for you." He kissed the corner of her mouth. "When I say eternity, Anastasia— I mean, eternity, you silly little girl."
He slowly pushed her out of the circle, hoping to calm her nerves as he moved her against the wall. She choked on a breath as he leaned down and kissed her, his lips calming her. He had her mouth memorized, knew every angle and detail, knew exactly what she liked. She began to melt like putty, her limp arm moving to grasp the back of his neck. He smirked lightly, continuing as he pressed his body against her.
She felt something shift in her body as he kissed her, something grow hungrier. She swallowed almost uncomfortably, gripping him tighter as she deepened the kiss. She pulled him down further, her lips moving faster as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The room, the tainted air that corrupted it, the evil that poured into her mouth, it was starting to have an effect on her. And he knew it too, so he quickened his pace along with her as he squeezed the back of her thighs.
It was like whiplash, how quickly her anxiety and nerves disappeared down the imaginary drain of her mind. All she could think about was him, or—more preferably his body. She groaned as she stood as tall as she could muster up, pushing her back off the wall as she moved them back into the satanic looking symbol.
If he hadn't of been so turned on by her dominant attitude, he would have laughed, thinking her behavior was rather cute. They both collapsed onto the floor, Ana settling on top of his lap as the loud smack of their lips filled the room. The candle flames grew bigger, as if they were entertained by the exotic, satanic ritual that was being performed.
And Michael loved when Ana was controlling, and he had missed it terribly. Though, it was always more amusing to him than anything else. He would have continued to let her do the work, but he couldn't not do anything. His palms squeezed her ass, reaching down to give her thigh a sharp smack as he pushed her to the ground. She yelped as he took control, roughly spreading her legs to the point where it almost hurt. He pressed himself into her core, grinding his clothed body up against hers as she whimpered. Her hands were pressed at the sides, heart thumping in her ears.
"Tell me you want this." He graveled out, moving to her neck as he suckled on her skin.
She nodded quickly, no hesitation in her mind. "Yes." She breathed, arching her back as the flames of the candles warmed her already burning skin. "I want this. Please, take me. Take me, I'm yours. Make my soul yours." She begged him, her pussy throbbing as she reached down to palm him through his slacks.
He groaned, pausing his assault on her neck as he squeezed her waist. He pushed up her dress, giving her panties a kiss as he tugged them down, tossing them to the side in a forgetful corner. She gulped, looking down on him as she waited rather impatiently. She leaned upward to help remove his clothing, ripping off his dark turtle neck as she did the same with her dress. It was a blur almost, how quickly they were able to remove their clothing. And as soon as the last bit was off, he was inside of her.
Her back was going to be covered in bruises by morning, due to how hard he had slammed her back against the floor. He penetrated inside of her quickly, stretching out her tight walls with a first, tear-jerking thrust. She screamed out a moan into his mouth, wrapping her legs around his back. Their lips vibrated from the strangled noises that burned their throats, their bodies scraping across the the floor. The scent of iron filled her nose, the feeling of an oily—slick substance against her skin. She realized now that it was blood that he had used to draw the symbol, and now, her own blood was cut from her hand. Of course, his cock buried inside of her caused her to be distracted, and she gasped as she broke out of the kiss, looking down to her now bleeding hand.
He gripped her chin and turned her back to look at him, not stopping his thrusts, only slowing them until they hit her in all the right spots. "Tell me again." He gritted his teeth, holding himself back from hurting her. His bleeding hand held her wrist, making sure their blood did not touch as she moaned pathetically, her sounds filling the room and warming the canals of his ear.
She nodded furiously, crying out as the tense—white hot ball of pleasure burned in her stomach. "Yes! Michael, yes, just-" She choked out, her hips moving upward to meet his actions. "Keep going. Oh, God, just keep- right there!" She rained out, her legs trembling as he made his way deeper inside of her.
Without a word, he reached his hand under her back, lifting her until she was perched up on his lap, her legs around his waist. One hand held the muscles of her back, the bloodied one moving to grip hers firmly. He squeezed it harshly, her body bouncing upward as they continued their intimate affairs. "Open your eyes." He told her, looking up to her lovestruck face.
She did as he asked, her body shaking and tingling around his own. For a moment, all he did was watch her, continuing to push inside of her as their knees burned against the hardwood floor. She gasped again when he pushed her back down to the ground, his hair dangling around them. "I need you to listen to me clearly," He began, towering over her. She was like his little rag doll, willing to be thrown about and follow his every little desire. She nodded, her mouth falling slack as their bodies pushed against the floor. "Repeat everything I say, and you must say it correctly." He leaned down to capture her lips, slowing his thrusts until he was barely even moving. She whined underneath him, feeling her orgasm disappear down the imaginary drain. "Do you understand?" He stroked her cheek, re-gripping their bloodied palms. Their bodies were beginning to be covered in blood, from his cut and from the drawing on the floor.
"I understand." She whispered, her tired eyes growing heavy. The room was very...overwhelming, and she had the sudden desire to sleep. And Michael knew that, so he used it to his advantage. He leaned down to her ear, his other hand holding her thigh. "Quid me autem,"
What's mine is yours.
He spoke each word slowly, tasting the letters and pressing them into her ear. His fingers twirled around the buds of her nipples, his tongue caressing the shell of her ear. Slowly, she repeated the words back, feeling a tiny ball of energy in her stomach start to grow. "Quid..me autem," She spoke softly, uneasiness at the thought of messing up his words.
Then, he rose away from her, towering over her as he adjusted her legs around his waist. He quickened his pace, moving in a steady rhythm as she cried out. "quid tu mihi. Natura rectae sint." His lips parted at the words, leaning closer to her until their chests were pressed together.
What's yours is mine. Let our powers cross the line.
She whimpered loudly, her back scraping across the floor as he moved quicker, his hand still holding hers. She drunkenly slurred the words back, weak moans and cries interrupting her. She begged him to move faster, too which he obliged. She was a mess underneath him, though he, himself, was remaining quite calm.
"Ego offerre mea usque ad donum participes." He groaned lowly, feeling himself twitch inside of her walls.
I offer up my gift to share.
She spoke back to him, more messily than he, but that didn't necessarily matter. He watched her speak with lustful eyes, slowing his movements to make them deeper and sharper. He tilted his chin downward to her, watching her back arch off the floor as she looked up to the ceiling. "Artem viribus auras."
Switch the powers through the air.
She whimpered pathetically underneath him, almost to the point of tears from the pleasure she felt. "Artem v-viribus aur..auras." She managed, making him smirk.
He quickly captured her lips, no longer holding himself back from his anomalistic desires. He let go of her hand, smearing the blood all over her chest and around her neck. Ana hadn't known what she had repeated after him, but she didn't care or hold any worry towards it. Though, as the final words had long since disappeared from her mouth, she felt something inside of her. It was small, almost undetectable, yet she could feel it. Almost like an itch that she couldn't reach. And suddenly, he began speaking again.
"Vestra autem infirma spiritus, mentes nostras fieri. Sanguine eius et erunt quasi non sint sui mea." He groaned out the words, voice laced in pleasure.
Ana couldn't focus on his words, as much as she wanted too. She cried out through her orgasm, not having much time to adjust as he continued. It was almost too much, for a moment, she thought she might not have been able to handle it. Her body was enjoying it, yes. The intense pleasure she enjoyed, but she grew uncertain. Just what exactly was she saying? What was he saying now? However, his next two words soothed any and all anxieties.
"Ave satanas." When he said it, he buried his face in her shoulder and raced to gain his pleasure, almost completely forgetting about her underneath. Anastasia, however, seemed to stall. Her body froze at the words, her body growing numb and cold as she stared at the ceiling.
It was like someone had dumbed her in ice, a crackling cold in her veins that she didn't know what to do with. It was so intense, so overwhelming that it paralyzed her. She didn't know what else to do or how to handle it, she was too afraid to. She almost seemed to forget about him above her, along with the feeling of him penetrating inside of her. Her grip on his shoulders had not faltered, but she couldn't feel him. Her vision grew blurry, the feeling of being frozen slowly disappearing. The feeling was replaced by a state of euphoria, and she gasped as her vision came back to him. She was no longer cold, she felt high. She felt like heroin had been injected in her veins, big—bright and beautiful colors that reminded her of her mother's old, ugly seventies carpet at her childhood home, filtering around the dull colors of the outpost. She couldn't even express words, strangled noises leaving her as she practically choked on air.
She pushed him away from her, sitting up to climb on top of him as she lowered him to the ground. She began riding him furiously, her curls bouncing with every roll of her hips. Her eyes were closed in ecstasy, along with his underneath her, though she wasn't paying him much attention. She kept chasing that feeling inside of her, something warm and delicious that she so desperately wanted to sink her teeth into.
But with every thrust she made, that feeling began to shift. That playful feeling in her veins turned hot, almost to the point where it burned. The bright colored filter in the room became covered with a red film, her nails felt like claws in his skin. Her curls felt to be on fire, her hair sizzling in her ears. She felt like her soul had left her body, having what felt to be an out of body experience.
Her body kept moving, but she felt out of control. Her vision went dark, along with her hearing. It was quiet, and she could barely feel Michael underneath her. She wasn't scared, but she was terribly confused. It seemed like she was walking down a dark, lonely corridor, having no place or ideas on where to go. She felt like she had whiplash, because yet again, everything changed. It hit her like a freight train, the burning fire that felt like her skin was melting off. She could hear chains rattling, screams of tortured souls and battered cries. She could also hear laughter, squeaky and playful. It was a child, she believed, hearing the sound of his running footsteps circle around her.
She still could not see, yet she could feel everything. And that alone, was more powerful than the sense of vision. The yank of a chain made her jump, followed by the scream of a woman and a chuckle from a boyish teenager. His vocal chords were young and soft, but laced with a vile venom that should have made her cower away.
She could begin to feel him underneath her again, the feeling of his nails digging into the back of her thighs. Her ears gave a loud pop, her veins sizzling like acid as a sickly slither seized into her ear. She could feel satan's fingers digging into her skin, his long—golden hair touching her hands that laid on his shoulders. His lips took in her breast, sucking and biting, decorating her chest with purple love bites. But, this wasn't satan. It was Michael. A sweet, young and innocent boy, disguised by the evil corruption of his father's wrath. She had thought maybe it was just purely satan she was feeling, not having experienced those bodily reactions before, but it wasn't.
It was still Michael,
just a new side of him.
A snake curled around her ankle, her body soaked in blood and sweat. What seemed to be her hundredth orgasm began approaching her, making her muscles tighten and her breathing stall. The demonic power he was pushing into her was dramatically overwhelming, to put it lightly, but she had never been more ready for it. She wanted everything he had, wanted to be his and only his. Every breath she took, every step and every word she spoke, she wanted him to control that.
And when she finally slipped over the edge, it was like a bullet had went off, a sharp—snap of a rubber band against her skin. A black film covered her eyes, replacing the red that had once been. She couldn't even muster up sounds then, her fingers sinking into his shoulders as her body shook above him. Her mouth was gaped open, her dark eyes fixated on a candles' flame, a flame she could not see. Every fiber of her being, every vein and cell, had changed in that moment.
Even though he was still buried inside of her, he was everywhere. She could feel his power, his thoughts and his desires for her. She could feel his love for her, how strongly it outweighed everything else. It was like they had become the same person, only needing one heart beating to keep them alive. It started from the top of her head and traveled to the tips of her toes, a satanic coating of her body that made her reborn. But as the dark film of her eyes slowly vanished, revealing the dull blue she had always disliked, she could feel herself slowly being put back together.
He was still there, extremely prominent in her mind, but her high was coming down, her body shifting in the way it was supposed to. She could feel the movements of her body now, the loud sound of their breathing and the boring colors of the outpost. She could feel the hold he had on her, more mentally than physically. With every breath, she felt him. He owned her, like a child latched onto a security blanket, free to drag along with them anywhere desired.
And as her high went away, those feelings died down and became tucked away in the library of her mind, making her feel reborn. And soon enough, she was back in the room, though she hadn't even left. She looked down on him, their chests heaving and loud noises leaving their mouth. The candles were now blown out, no snakes insight. Only them, covered in blood, sweat and semen. His eyes were closed, his cold rings against her hips.
Without having any control, she collapsed on top of him, her chest flush against his and curls spreading around them. Her legs intertwined with his, the remnants of her orgasm spilling down her leg. She rose with every breath he took, her eyes focused tiredly on the wall. Slowly, he turned his face to the curtain of her hair, eyes closed and having barely any energy. She felt him move, their fingers ghosting over one another's. After having such an experience, neither of them really knew what to say—nor, had the energy, so they both simultaneously spoke,
"I love you."
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yikes🤠
y'alls thoughts on this one? took me years to finally finish lmfao.