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Summary
“let’s both keep quiet, yeah?”
he’s warm, you think. impeccably warm, in a way that has you inching closer ever so slightly, fingers flexing in your lap, itching to touch, to cradle. to tease. he’s close. close enough that you can make out the lashes fanning his cheek, the way his tongue darts over his lips. his eyes, harder than steel, melting away, moon-soft. dark.
“how quiet?” you whisper, heart stuttering rabbit-fast in your chest.
his hands tighten around your waist, thumb brushing your hip bone. a low hum. you feel it rumbling in his chest, where your hand has found support over his beating heart. it hammers against your palm, the thrill of the hunt.
“quiet enough to let me fuck you,” he breathes.
or: you and trevor find yourselves in an inn months after he saved you. you come to a mutually beneficial agreement.