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The soft warmth of another floods your senses, making up for the lack of light. A cool, flat surface behind you lies as the opposition to the warm, soft body in front of you. An involuntary giggle leaves your lips as your lover softly kisses your lips.
The feather light touch on your lips feels like heaven. Your lipgloss—strawberry, Satoru’s favorite—long gone from the traitorous games of kissing him. No matter how much the advertisements may claim it as ‘long-lasting’, nothing strawberry-flavored could survive Satoru’s drive for sweets.
His fingers press into your skin. One hand rests at the junction of your jaw, fingers splayed across your cheek and below your ear, stroking lightly. The other hand lies at the nape of your neck, pressing you forward and further into him.
Your hands come up from their hold of the belt loops on his pants and snake their way up to his neck. You try to tug him impossibly closer to you, eager to get more of Satoru’s divine touch. Amongst his powerful standing as a god, who’d have known his callous hands could hold you so gently?
The door behind you presses harsh into your back as Satoru pushes you further into the surface. Underneath your combined weight, the floor slightly creaks. You giggle and Satoru takes it as an invitation to coax his tongue against the seam of your lips, and who are you to say no?
Gradually, kisses that started our innocent turn heated, and you move to bite his lower lip. He whines, a sound that feels illegal to hear. You slither your hands slightly further upwards, eager to try and capture more of that noise. Tugging at the roots of his ivory hair, you elicit a whimper from him.
Groaning to yourself, you tug again, and he moans. His mouth opens further, and you take initiative to move your tongue into his mouth, licking at his canines. You’re both breathing heavily, but you’re too absorbed with the other to realize. Too intoxicated on the other to think straight.
The room fills with heavy breathing and the occasional involuntary noise from one of you. The minutes stretch, and you want to live in the warmth of this moment forever.
Finally, after one final suck to your tongue, Satoru pulls away. His hands continue their light touches over your skin, and your eyes flutter open. You try to chase after him, lips twitching to be covered by his warmth once more, but he holds you in place.
He’s breathing heavily and his eyes are hooded. His hair remains a mess as you slide your hands down from the white tufts back to the base of his neck. He’s actively restraining himself from capturing your lips once more, eyes flicking between your disheveled appearance and slightly puffy lips.
He leans in to give a few more chaste kisses. Starting from your jaw, moving up to the corner of your mouth, one on the tip of your nose, and finally arriving at one on the lips. He pulls back farther and stares at you. In the deep blues of his eyes, you see your reflection.
He sees the love of his life, the sole person capable of holding his heart with warm hands and soft whispers.
You both look into each other’s eyes, and smile with love and adoration for each other. You’re interrupted by the buzzing of his phone, and break out of your trance. Hurriedly, you both try to fix your appearances. You brush his hair back to normal and he reapplies your lipgloss, but not before stealing a few tastes for himself.
The routine feels normal, and maybe it is. How you’d love to linger in this dreamlike state forever, alone with your lover. To imagine the loving, filthy things you would do to each other—for each other—is to borrow a utopian dream.
You move away from the door and into his arms, a brief pairing that envelops you with warmth just as quickly as it’d left. Hand in hand, you walk out the door and into the light.
But, who really needs anything else, when the only thing you’ll ever need is smiling down at you like you’d sculpted his heart yourself?