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Summary
The sigh against his lips was soft. A delicate exhale tinged by the taste of watermelon and the most delicious of frustrations. Sweetness that went straight for the already vivid heat in his belly like cherry wood for the pyre.
Dew groaned.
His tongue darted out, eager to taste it from the source rather than secondhand. He delved into the familiarity of Rain’s mouth as his hand slipped between Rain’s head and the pillow. Cupped the back of his neck as his fingers found their way into the loose sweaty curls at the nape with the sole purpose of keeping him there. Right where Dew wanted him when he started to shift, trying to take where Dew wasn’t ready to give.