bite
It was like they were digging.
For something deeper.
Something way deeper.
But they could never quite get it.
It lit something special up inside of them that satisfied them and somehow made them greedier at the same time.
No matter how rough or frantic they planted kisses onto eachothers skin.
No matter how hard they gripped eachothers flesh, leaving red marks.
No matter how hard they ground their hips into eachother.
No matter how much further she spread her legs around his lap.
No matter how much deeper he thrusted up into her.
It wasn’t enough.
Why wasn’t it enough?
Give me more.
Give me more.
Give me more.
Please.
Fuck.
“Fuck,” she let out this desperate, piercing whine into the skin of his neck as her fingers dug into his shoulders.
Sweat was slick on her forehead, her spine, and the backs of her knees.
Her mind was foggy with something primal.
Like nothing else mattered but exactly that.
Whatever ‘that’ thing was.
it makes you crazy.
it makes you forget everything.
it makes your skin tingle underneath.
It pools and pools and fills and fills and rushes to the ends of your body.
Your shoulders.
Your fingertips.
Your toes.
That spot in between your legs.
And it feels like it wants to explode.
That thing.
God, that thing.
She ground and ground and ground, not only her hips, but her teeth.
They clenched harder and harder until it hurt, but she barely even processed the pain.
She wanted more.
She kept digging.
And digging.
Like maybe she would find it.
Even though there was no where else to go.
Why must this be so finite?
She can’t have it all.
She can only have what her experience defines as “all”.
And that wasn’t enough.
She wanted more.
Everything in life is finite, I guess.
Everything has limits.
Everything has boundaries.
Stupid fucking boundaries.
If she could just swallow him whole, she fucking would.
If she could just feel him deep inside her chest, god, she would.
If she could fuse their bodies together until they became one,
She would.
But she can’t.
It isn’t even humanly possible.
Maybe even then, eventually she’d end up wanting more.
What did more even mean?
For moments like this.
When each moan just makes you want more.
When each thrust makes your eyes roll back.
When each little angle hits that perfect spot inside of you so well that it almost makes you angry.
“Shit, baby—Gimmie more, come on—fuck—“ he breathed deep into her hair, his hips pistoning up and down into her, the weight of her body on top of his no longer registering.
She was so warm.
So fucking warm.
Her hair even smelled warm.
How the fuck does hair smell warm?
He didn’t know but it was fucking good.
It was her.
Her moans were her.
The way she trembled was her.
The little ugly, pleasure faces she made were so profoundly her.
He swallowed in every single second of that.
As if his life depended on it.
Because it did.
At least it felt like it.
How could it not feel like it when she was like this?
wrapped around him.
Snug.
Perfect.
Familiar.
Home.
This is where he wanted to be.
Forever.
He swore.
Forever.
And he couldn’t get enough.
He wanted to go deeper.
He tried and he tried and he tried and he tried more.
He thrusted up harder.
He pulled her down closer.
But what did closer even mean when you were already as close as two humans could possibly be?
He grunted in urgent need.
So did she.
There was nothing they could do.
He kissed all over her face, her neck, her lips, her hair.
Anywhere he could reach.
He left behind these warm wet trails along her skin.
He sucked at her neck.
And then he groaned, bit her skin there and then pulled back.
Fuck.
That’s good.
Something warm spread down his neck and back.
Something good.
His eyebrows pulled in and his eyes flickered at the sensation.
“Mm,” she moaned harder at the feeling of his teeth in her skin.
He bit his lip at her reaction.
Fuck he liked that.
That was...fuck…
More.
So he did it again.
He bit at her neck.
Harder and harder.
Up the length.
Across the warm surface.
He let her skin catch in between his teeth.
He let his tongue flick over the red spots he left.
Nip.
Soothe.
Nip.
Soothe.
Nip.
Soothe.
Over and over and over.
All over her flesh.
Anywhere he could reach.
Her earlobe.
The cartilage of her ear.
Her lips.
Her shoulders.
Her collarbones.
Her breasts.
He grunted into her skin everytime her walls pulsed around him when he bit at her.
She gasped with each bite.
She squeezed him.
Her back arched deeper and deeper.
“God, that’s it,” she wept out into the sticky, sex filled air.
They kept thrusting into eachother.
Rolling their hips.
Rocking their bodies.
And then he grabbed her wrist, intertwined their hands and kissed eachother finger..
Frantically.
Uncoordinated.
And he bit her there too.
And then he nipped and kissed up the length of her arms.
Like something else entirely was controlling him.
It wasn’t him thinking about what to do next.
He was just doing it.
And it felt so fucking good,
“Mmm, fuck—Marshall—“ her eyes rolled back and her teeth gritted.
It felt like this thick, slow, warm honey rippling along his skull.
So slow.
Cascading.
And then it would drip somewhere in his chest.
Setting off this nasty chain reaction that narrowed his entire world.
On to what?
Her.
Always her.
It didn’t stop.
The feeling of her flesh between his teeth kept feeding it.
And feeding it.
The feeling of her warmth around his length kept feeding it.
And feeding it.
And he devoured it.
He caught her nipple in his mouth and he sucked.
And bit.
And sucked more.
And nipped.
And pulled.
The feeling was unbearable for her.
In the best way possible.
Every little bite sent a sharp pleasurable pain through her being.
Through her skin.
Drowning in her chest.
Shooting up her neck.
Puddling in between her legs.
Puddle.
Puddle.
Puddle.
More.
More.
More.
Driving her wilder.
And wilder.
And wilder.
And senseless.
She kissed him back.
Without even meaning to.
Just by instinct.
She kissed his lips, his cheeks, his neck, even his ears.
Her mouth involuntarily opened just a little more and let her teeth nip at his sensitive skin just like his did.
She got his lower lip.
And her eyebrows cinched in together while her back curved in deeper just from the sensation itself.
She got his earlobe.
She got his chin.
It hurt so fucking good.
It stung so fucking good.
It mixed with the pleasure in a way that reworked their nervous systems just how it needed in this moment.
It was like putting salt on caramel to make the sweetness pop.
And at some point…they were both just biting at eachother like wild animals.
Grind.
Moan.
Bite.
Lick
Grind.
Moan.
Bite.
Lick.
Tremble.
Lose rhythm.
Repeat.
And they couldn’t stop.
it was taking them over.
That’s all they were at one moment.
Their moans began making their throats feel raw.
Their ears began getting hot from the inside like a hot flash.
An unbelievable pressure started to weigh down on them.
The good kind of pressure.
The one that promises a relief.
Not the one that feels like it’ll never end.
Not the one that makes you wanna hide away forever.
Not the one that dreads you.
No, this one was good.
So fucking good.
It pressed and pressed.
And deepened and deepened.
Until the edges of it started to dull.
Until the world started to float away.
Until all it was for her was this deep, warm, filling solidness pushing and nudging and sliding against the most responsive, vulnerable parts of her body.
Until each ridge inside of her that he caught on made these intense shocks shoot up her chest, to her neck, to the back of her head.
Until all it was for him was this warm, soft snugness wrapped around him in such a way he felt like his entire body was wrapped up in it.
Like he’d never be able to get out.
Like it was taking all of him.
Every single inch.
Every single rough edge.
Every single lost piece.
Every single bad part about himself that he didn’t like.
And she took it.
She just…held it.
…Why?
He didn’t have the answer.
He also didn’t want to answer it right now.
He hated asking himself that question.
He’s never asked her that question.
Doesn’t want to.
Disgust wallows in his bones anytime he tries.
So he just stopped trying.
Stop trying, Marshall.
Stop thinking about it.
Why are you thinking about it right now?
Out of all moments?
Push it away.
Push. It. Away.
Now isn’t the time.
“Fuck,” his voice drew through his throat, a mix of a crack and a moan. His hand instantly shot to her clit, his thumb rubbing the sensitive wet nub there in deep pressured circles. “Come on, baby—let me feel you,” he growled, forehead pressing to hers.
Her jaw was slack, her eyes were shut, and all she could do was nod.
It was coming.
The ‘it’ that soothes ‘that’ thing.
It’s coming.
Like a tsunami.
Or like the way a rubber band gets pulled,
further
and further
and further.
And further
And further.
Tension building.
And building.
Higher.
And higher.
Until, it has to eventually pop.
He felt her muscles tightening.
He felt her grinding become more aggressive.
Like what she needed was just right there and if she stopped now it’d be gone forever.
And then, she popped.
“Shit!” Her back bowed inward so deep that it looked like it might hurt.
And then her walls started to repeatedly throb and squeeze around him.
Over and over.
Pulling up and in around him.
Tighter and tighter.
Her body shook.
Her nails dug so deep that it made him wince.
“Mmmfuck—“ he moaned through a strained throat, trying to contain himself,
But he couldn’t.
Not with the way she felt.
Not with the way she gripped and pulled at his body,
Not with the way her moans sounded.
It was over for him.
Just as she was riding the last waves of her release, his just started. “Ahhh—fuck!”
His head threw back against the wooden headboard and the pleasure from the climax zipped through his body so intensely that he didn’t even feel the pain of the collision.
He thrashed and thrusted and moaned so hard while he let his body be vulnerable to the all consuming feeling she gave him.
His legs kicked against the sheets and blankets.
He made sounds he never meant to make.
He gripped her harder than he meant to.
He let himself throb inside of her.
He let his body wring out until there was nothing left.
Until he was completely drained of any energy he had.
Until they were both slumped together.
Useless.
Melty.
He felt her arms loosely wrap around his neck, holding his body against hers until he fully settled down.
She pressed soft, lazy, warm kisses to the side of his face.
His mind was quiet again.
He twitched from the aftershocks of what just happened.
She shivered involuntarily against him from the remnants of hers.
And he still didn’t know why she was still here.
She kissed the back of his damp ear and asked him why he was so good to her.
he stiffened a little.…and then chuckled.
Not because he was flattered but because he simply didn’t understand why she’d feel that way.
Like he just didn’t believe her when she wrapped her arms around him and gave him her all.
Like she was just ‘tolerating’ him.
And even if she was…why the hell did he think that’s what he deserved.
Like he should just be grateful for someone like her even being within his proximity.
Cut it out, Marshall.
He thought to himself.
He shoved his face into her hair again.
Hoping that would shut it up.
Meanwhile, she was just enjoying the after feeling of him still inside of her, going soft with each passing minute.
They sat for a few more moments.
Bodies completely exhausted.
Bones like liquid.
Muscles futile.
Mind blank.
Like they were just floating in that peaceful little liminal space after all the chaos.
And then he took in a deep breath, breathing in the natural smell of their scents mixing together.
He patted her lower back, “come on, B,” Marshall cleared the sex from his throat, “—let’s go clean up,”
She hummed into his neck, “Mmm, my favorite part,” smiling gleefully before they slowly, achingly separated from eachother.
They both moaned softly and sat there for a moment adjusting to the subtraction of heat.
And then— she helped him get up from the bed, their legs wobbling a little when they stood.
Her soft hand held his as she dragged him to the bathroom.
Nothing resolved.
Nothing about him “right” like he wished it was for her.
But he still felt her thumb caressing his palm while she pulled him.
Even when he wasn’t who he wanted to be for her.
Or at least that’s how he felt.
Why do emotions and reality have to clash so hard?
You never know what’s real.
And you never know what emotions just ‘feel’ louder than what’s true.
A soft hand caressing your palm can’t undo years of whatever this feeling was.
But she was still there.
Why?
