The feeling where you’re completely and utterly comfortable. Wrapped in his being, and snaked between his thighs. Where the warm patter of breath is exchanged in fumbles and fidgets. The feeling where you wouldn’t trade a second of it for anything else in the world. Where nothing could amount to the touch of his calloused fingers, or the whisper of hair brushing your forehead. Where the lines between human and humane are crossed. Merged. Blurred. The feeling that time is as synched and hurried as a heartbeat, the flutter of eyelashes, a quirk of the lips.


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