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Summary
He buried his face just behind her ear, arms winding around her with playful certainty, the kind that had no edge of panic to it. Just affection. Just the wordless insistence that being close to her was better than anything waiting outside the door.
“Surely,” he murmured into her skin, “We can have a few more moments.”
She scoffed, quiet and fond, as he pulled her even closer, his leg sliding along the outside of hers to keep her tucked firmly against him. Lune’s hand came up, fingers brushing blindly along his forearm as if testing whether he truly meant to keep her pinned. The warmth of his chest pressed along her spine, and his breath settled in a slow, warm rhythm against her shoulder.
“You say that every morning.” she said, though the reprimand was softened by the way she relaxed against him, body yielding to the cradle he made of his arms.
“And I’m right every morning,” Verso countered, nudging his nose against the curve where her neck met her shoulder.
“Almost every morning,” she corrected, quiet, her breath warming the space between them.(What if Maelle created a Black Mirror Tamagotchi situation to give the people she loves the perfect life and what if it's not the life they want)
Series
- Part 1 of Painters Writers and Musicians