(🎧 “Heartbeat” — Childish Gambino, Part Two)

The rain had soaked through your jacket, but you didn’t care. Yelena’s hand was still on your cheek, fingers tangled in your hair, and the world around you blurred into neon streaks and the faint echo of the club’s bass.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you muttered, though your body was betraying your words.

“Neither should I,” she said, voice low, almost pained. “And yet… you’re right here, aren’t you?”

Her lips brushed against yours again — teasing, demanding, messy. You caught her closer, fingers sliding along her waist as if trying to tether her to you. She pressed into you, forehead to forehead, breathing ragged.

“I can’t—” you started, then stopped, words lost in the thunder of your heartbeat.

She smirked through the tension, that dangerous glint in her eyes. “You can, detka. You want to.”

And God, you did.

The kiss deepened, chaotic, desperate, neither of you holding back. Hands fumbled, pulling, grasping — nothing delicate, nothing careful. Just fire. Just everything you’d tried to forget, exploding in one hot, messy storm.

“You’re impossible,” you gasped between kisses.

“Exactly why you keep coming back,” she shot back, lips brushing yours, teasing, tasting faintly of vodka and stormy nights.

You groaned softly, leaning into her, feeling the tremor in her touch match your own. Every argument, every fight, every heartbreak led to this — chaotic, dangerous, inevitable.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were gasping, laughing, heartbeats pounding so fast you thought they might explode.

Her forehead rested against yours, wet hair sticking to your skin. “We’re a disaster,” she whispered.

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you admitted, voice soft, trembling with everything unsaid.

Her lips found yours again — slower this time, just enough to remind you why you were both addicted, why you were both doomed. Messy, reckless, unstoppable — heartbeat to heartbeat, fire to fire.