D E S I R E

|| B e t t y C o o p e r ||

I think you like it when I pull your hair.

You tell me to stop, but you never really force me to, Betty.

You say it quietly, as my fingers curl around a tuft of blonde hair and gently pull your head back. You say it with a gasp, as your lips part and your back arches and you press hard against me, trying to get more friction from my skin.

You gasp quietly, but I think the words come out on reflex, not really meaning anything.

I pull and your eyes close and your mouth gapes open, as your chest heaves to push that word out. The word you don't mean.

I think you say it because you tell yourself you don't want to like it. You don't want to believe that you like this. That you like when I'm passionately rough with you.

You tell me to stop, but you don't mean it. You don't want to believe that you like it when I bite you, when I push you just enough to get you over the edge quicker, when I grab you, or scratch you.

You hope I'm blind to it, but I'm not.

I can taste how much it excites you when you draw my head closer to you.

I'm not blind to the fact you press harder and scream louder. That stutter in your voice can't be missed when I take your wrists and pin you down, even though you try to say no.

You like this, you like it a lot. Maybe more than I do.

I comb my fingers through your hair and you look down at me with half lidded eyes.

I think you like this more than me, Betty Cooper.

You lick your lips, and gasp, working your jaw to say something in your tone drenched in arousal.

You bring your hand to meet mine that was tangled in your locks and leaned over to kiss my wrist, not breaking eye contact.

In a gust of air, you whispered, "I'm yours, (Y/N)."

Everything about you drives me crazy, Betty Cooper.

Why do I love having you in my system.

In my head.

In my heart.

I feel your legs tighten around me, and your free hand depressing the pillow beside my head. Your chest is heaving, and your face is blushing red at the embarrassment of how close you are.

Your eyes flickered away, but my other hand captures your cheek, and brings your gaze back to me.

Your hips stutter when our eyes lock.

My thumb brushes against your lip, hot breath pouring over my skin.

Your eyes try to avoid mine, but I refuse to miss the moment when the spark in your hues explode and you stare into ecstasy.

When that happens, the moment is intense for both of us.

The smallest touch, drowns you, every breath is hard to release. For me, seeing you tense but pure and staring straight at me as I feel everything you have to offer pour into me. Everything you feel passes into me through your eyes, and I can't help but fall more in love with you.

Your hips stutter again and you try to look away, I can't let you keep such a precious moment to yourself, "Betty."

You look back at me. You're close, I can see the light at the edge of your eyes.

"I'm yours too. All of me. Me too," I said, as I turned my head and kissed your wrist.

You kiss my thumb in return, your lips still wet with what I knew to be myself.

"How did I get so lucky to have a girlfriend like you," you say. I barely heard it. I almost missed it and if I did, I know you would have never said it again.

You kiss my thumb down to my palm, your breath harsh against my skin, never looking away from me.

Then a whimper left your lips and your fingers curled beside my head.

I saw it, the light explode and my own heart stuttered upon watching the fireworks.

You slow as the light dies from your eyes. You slowly lower yourself, pressing our chests flush together and burying your face in my neck. I heard you take in my scent. My arms coming around your waist to hold you.

We lay there, sweaty and tired, until you kiss my neck. "You bit me," you said.

I smile.