his laughter rolls throughout the room , cutting through the music playing in the background , free and easy. it’s an easy battle to win, but it’s a fight that he likes and he’ll take the bait for it every single time the opportunity presents itself.
the jeans are unbuckled and unzippered as he follows her down, hanging loosely off his hips, but for the moment he’s more preoccupied with getting more of the moans out of her. he wants her messy words, her desperate begging, as his lips leave a trail from between her breasts to her collarbone to her neck. he wants her fingers clawing at him for more. pinning her arms just above her head, he works on bruising the skin of her neck with his teeth and his lips , marking her as if she’s his and they aren’t just friends who fuck and get high. ( or get high and fuck; the order never matters. )
the scrape of his teeth against her neck isn’t as hard as it could be with the dope making waves in his veins and through his head, but grinding his hips down against hers is a different sensation entirely. he gives what he gets, and he moans into her ear, breaking the contact and breathing hard. his hands fumble with pushing his jeans down past his waist to kick them off onto the floor. “fuck, baby,” he breathes. “you want me?”
Ever hear the saying, play with fire & get burned ? There’s never the cautionary tale if you ENJOY both fire, and the masochism involved in how it scars skin. She’s full of them, of fire & scars and she’s got no sorrows where pain and pleasure are involved, and how often the two are indistinguishable from the other.
She’s wriggling her hands , trying to free them from his grasp and so she uses one of the few weapons she’s got at her disposal ; teeth latching onto his collarbone on the next pass of his hips to bring him closer, she bites and bites until blood splashes hot, and bitter against her tongue.
She smiles, proud, and wrests her hands away enough to get them just underneath his shoulder blades, using this grip, and a leg hooked through his own two, giving her the leverage necessary to spin him, so she can sit on top of him, make him beg. Of course, this gave her the upper hand in so many ways and while she’s normally quite complacent while high , happy to be his pliable fucktoy ; she’s got something brighter burning tonight and it makes for a feisty lover.
“ of course I want you baby.” hot , her words are slowed by the dope & her eyes lull shut briefly ; she’s riding this high half as well as she’s riding him, a methodical grinding of her hips, body swaying to a song that was not playing, but all in an effort to get a rise out of him. She takes his hands and runs them across her chest, pulling away what little fabric remained ( only a bandeau that’d been underneath her top , flimsy ).
