i think it's love | ethma

fifteen

She hears him growl, "Yes ma'am," and then her back is being slammed against the wall and his entire body is pressing against her. She gasps at the sensation; his hands fall to her hips, and they're gripping her hard, flexing on her skin before falling even further to her thighs and hoisting her up. She follows his lead, hooking both her legs around his waist. He presses her even further against the wall, and even as he kisses gently at her throat, he's pulling her against his front roughly.

She shudders at the friction, and when he smiles into her skin and does it again she tries to follow his lead, tries to arch her back into it. But his hands on her hips slam her back into the wall, keeping her back straight. She tries again, but she realizes quickly that he's definitely doing it on purpose, keeps forcing her back at the wall with his hands every time she tries to get closer. He's rolling his hips into hers at his own maddening pace and it infuriates her and at the same time it's making her burn in the most delicious of ways.

She moans into it and it seems to undo him a little bit. He unleashes something of a growl from the back of his throat and now his lips are back on hers, and he's licking straight into her mouth, hot and dirty.

She didn't know she could feel any more turned on than she already was, but there you go.

She pulls at his shirt and clumsily with his help, manages to get it over his head. And then she doesn't even know where to look. She's aware of how hungry her gaze is as she takes in all the skin she's uncovered, and then she hitches her legs higher onto his waist and rakes her her fingernails lightly down his bare back. And when he ruts against her again it hits a whole new angle, making her cry out. "Ethan," she moans, and it falls from her lips like a plea.

The next thing she knows, she's being pushed gently into his bed, into the sheets that smell like him and she's suddenly aware that they're both wearing most of their clothes which seems impossible considering how wound up she feels.

"Emma," he returns in a rasp. It sounds like question.

"Yes," she manages to get out. "Yes."

"You sure you're not drunk or emotionally compromised?" he asks against her collarbone, and she swats his arm.

"I am very awake, functional and capable of making choices right now," she tells him, and finally he believes her.

Indeed, she is totally aware of what this means when they relieve each other of their clothes, garments flying everywhere in their haste.

She's fully alert when he drags her underwear down her legs with his teeth.

And when he finally sinks into her and they both sigh, she's never felt more alive.

-

They're lying in his bed later when he speaks again.

"My mother."

She turns her head at his tone of voice. "What?"

He's staring up at the ceiling. "I went to visit my mom's grave," he says quietly. "I do it every year. Buy flowers and everything." He scoffs. "Cheesy, I know. But that's what I do. Every year on that day, by myself. That's why I have no solid alibi." When she says nothing, he swallows and goes on. "I just want her to know that I'm still alive and me and Grayson are...you know...reasonably happy. I think she deserves to know that, even when she's not here anymore. I know that makes no sense." He chuckles and shakes his head.

Emma watches his profile for a moment before saying quietly, "It makes sense to me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she replies, because now she's thinking about her dad and how he's long gone, and yet she too would like him to know that she's still alive and here and reasonably happy. "It's kind of beautiful."

He smiles and pulls her in, tucking her right into his side. "You're kind of beautiful."

"Kind of?" Emma repeats with a sleepy smile, snuggling a little closer into his body heat. "You want to try that again?"

He chuckles. He doesn't respond for a long time, but when he does whisper into the darkness Emma's already drifted off and she's not sure if she's already dreaming.

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever met."

Emma wakes up to a text from her mom: They found who did it— call me.

It's the second best thing she could have woken up to that morning.

The first best thing is Ethan, spooning her from behind and nuzzling his face into the back of her neck.

im not good at smut sorry