CLICKING MY LIPS, STRAWBERRY
                     CHAPSTICK IN HOLD.. /

I walk in like i already own the room.. Slow, measured, a little dangerous. My heels don’t just click, they echo. Heads turn, not because i try, but because i don’t have to. There’s something in the way i carry myself…

“Like i’ve lived a little, loved a little, lost a little, and came back softer but sharper.”

I don’t chase attention, i let it orbit me. There’s a quiet heat in my presence.. nothing loud, nothing desperate.

   
I don’t think i was ever meant to lead anything.. not when my hands hesitate before they even reach, not when my voice drops the second yours gets a little firmer, i fold easy.. too easy, maybe. I like it when you notice that, when you tilt my chin up just enough to make me look at you, like you already know i’m not going anywhere.
   

Just the way you look at me does it, that steady, knowing gaze that makes my chest tighten a little, makes me swallow whatever stubbornness i had left and trade it for something warmer… more obedient.

I think that’s what gets me the most, how easy it is to give in. how natural it feels to let my guard slip completely, to let you see the parts of me that don’t ask, don’t demand, hoping you’ll take notice.

   
Soft enough to be shaped by you,
and steady in the way i give myself over, piece by piece… until there’s nothing left in me that isn’t quietly, willingly yours.
   

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ✿ reminisence touch

ㅤ╱ II. Your gentle touch on my bare skin, warmth perfectly preserved. Our bodies that complement each other, fantasies reaching beyond the sky (&.) A message about beautiful night, shared anonymously ☆‌

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He pulls his fingers out slow. Leaves me empty and aching and whining like I’m not a grown man who knows better. I reach for him he catches my wrist, pins it back. “Did I say you could touch?” No. He didn’t. I shake my head, throat too tight for words. He’s kneeling between my legs now, watching me watch him. My cock twitches against my belly.

“You want this?” I nod. Not enough. He waits. The silence stretches until I break. “Yes. Yes, I want it. Please.” The word cracks something open in me. He sees it I know he does, saw it in the flicker of his eyes and lines himself up anyway. No mercy. I wouldn’t want it if it wasn’t him.
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One long, thick slide that steals the air from my lungs and whatever pride I had left. I feel every inch the stretch, the burn, the way my body gives itself over before my brain catches up.

His forehead drops to mine. His breath is ragged. Good. I’m not the only one wrecked here. “You take me so well.” Praise and poison all at once. I clench around him without meaning to, and he groans actually groans and that sound does something to me. Makes me bold. Makes me wrap my legs around his hips and pull him deeper, even though I can barely breathe, even though I’m shaking.
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He drags me off the bed by my hips. I hit the floor on my knees. The rug burns. I open for him I’d open for him anywhere. “Tongue first. Show me you want it.” I want it.
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He bends me over the desk. My cheek presses against cold wood. Papers scatter. I don’t know what they are and I don’t care. His hand spreads between my shoulder blades, holding me down. “Look at yourself.” There’s a mirror on the wall. I didn’t notice it before. His hand slides up my spine to grip the back of my neck. His mouth comes close to my ear. “Beautiful,” he says. “Look how beautiful you are like this.” I meet his eyes through the reflection, completely caught beneath his gaze. Then his voice drops to a whisper. “Say my name when you come.”
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