When your countdown appeared on your wrist right on the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have...
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You grasp at his T-shirt, your fingers clutching on it so tightly that you almost rip the fabric that has been straining against his chest. For a moment, you break apart from the kiss as he releases you, his hands bunching on his T-shirt before yanking it over his head. He quickly pulls you back to him when he is done, your chest melding together with his as his mouth finds yours again, your softer curves pressing and aligning against his firm muscles with only your shirt coming in the way.
He continues to back away while taking you back in his arms, his kisses becoming harder, deeper, dominating, until he stops with a grunt when his legs meet the working chair that he had left behind earlier to meet you at his door. Once again, you come apart from the kiss, and your eyes find his while you try to catch your breath, though it quickly stills when you see his dark desire swirling in his gaze.
He looks so tall and strong as he gazes down on you. His chest is moving rapidly with his shallow breaths just as yours is doing the same. You take this moment to admire him silently, running your gaze from his broad shoulders and his hard chest to his toned waist, down to the grey sweatpants that he is still wearing, its waistband hanging loose on his hips and his cock looking hard and stiff, pressing against the fabric from beneath. His lips are swollen after the long, intense kiss, while his eyes are hooded as he takes you in the same way you are doing it to him.
He is the epitome of sex and sin, and for some reason, the universe had decided that he is the perfect pair for you. And now your body is humming, calling for him, telling you to claim what you are entitled to.
Without a word, you answer the call, reaching out to him with shaking hands. His eyes flutter to close as you run your fingers gently across his hard jaw, your thumb finding his dimple that shows up as he swallows hard, embracing your touch while he keeps his hands settled on your hips, gentle and unmoving.
There is nothing but the sounds of your heartbeat and shallow breaths filling the silent room as you continue to run your fingers gently on his face, moving down to his neck and feeling his pulse, down to his collarbone, before stopping on his chest. You can feel his steady heartbeat jumping under your fingers as you touch him there, the sharp intake of his breath trembles under the tip of your touch as you move lower, and lower, before you give him a gentle push that sends him down onto his chair.
With his hands still on the curves of your hips, he pulls you along with him as he falls back, and you easily follow him, crawling onto his lap just as he leans back in his seat, never once looking away from you. As if he wants to memorise everything that you are doing and he refuses to miss any second of it.
For a short, silent moment, neither of you makes a move. You simply settle down on his lap with your hands on his shoulders, while he gazes up at you with his own hands holding you by the hips. The sparks in the air around you have quieted down a little and so have your thoughts. You have no idea what you are doing or where you are going with this, but you follow your instinct, listening more to your body than the rapid thoughts in your head. Then his grip on your body tightens, snapping you out of it, only for you to move forward and lean into him, slowly giving in to what your body has been telling you to do.
