You land on the bed with a soft bounce, the frame creaking beneath the sudden shift. He follows without hesitation, like he was already falling before you even touched the mattress. His body presses into yours, warm and familiar, hands moving like he’s done this before—like you’re something he knows by heart.

One slips beneath your shirt, resting against the bare curve of your waist. The other tangles gently into your hair, anchoring you there, keeping you close as his lips find yours.

The kiss isn’t rushed or careful—it just is. Certain. Like he’s been holding onto the thought of this all day and finally let go.

When he breaks away, it’s only by inches. Just enough space for his eyes to wander across your face, slow and deliberate, like he’s studying a painting he’s already obsessed with.

“You’re something else,” he says, dead serious. “I could watch you forever and never need another distraction.”

You let out a quiet laugh, the corners of your mouth lifting. “Is that right?”

He doesn’t say anything at first—just lets the smallest grin flicker across his lips before leaning in again. His answer is barely a sound against your mouth: “Yeah.”

The next kiss is softer, deeper. He traces your jaw with his mouth, then dips lower, nuzzling just beneath your ear. You feel the warmth of his breath before the press of his lips, then a playful bite, the sharpness dulled by a soothing kiss right after.

His hand shifts lower, settling over your hip, fingers drawing slow, absentminded circles against the fabric of your pants. Like touching you isn’t a decision, just something that happens when he’s near you.

“Of course I could,” he mumbles against your skin, voice husky. “Look at you.”

He starts to leave little marks along your neck—faint and intentional. Not for anyone else to see. Not for show. Just because he likes leaving reminders. Because the closeness feels real when it lingers, when it bruises a little, when it stays.

And when he pulls back, resting his forehead lightly against yours, his eyes find you again—quieter now, softened by something he doesn’t name. Something that feels like want, but deeper.

Something that says: I like being the one who gets to do this.