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‘Is it the only thing you’re going to miss?’ I run my tongue upwards and the noise that comes out of him is almost primal.
After a few more laboured breaths he lets go of my hair and reaches towards me, pulling my face back to his and tasting himself on my tongue, making the weight below my stomach ache even more than I thought possible.
I lift my legs over his hips to straddle him, aware of how painfully close we are, how my insides feel like a maze of tripwires just one mistake away from detonation.
‘I want this. But do you want to keep going?’ he asks, running his hands up my sides and resting them in the dip of my waist.
‘Obviously,’ I rasp, unsure how exactly I could make my intentions any clearer at this second. ‘I thought you were smart.’
I rest a hand on his torso to steady myself as I stretch across him to dig through my bedside table.
‘There’s nothing stupid about consent,’ he replies smoothly, tearing open the foil packet and, because he is Finn O’Callaghan, handing me the wrapper to throw in the bin while he rolls the condom on.
‘You sound,’ I lean forward to kiss him, tasting toothpaste and lust and that unnameable thing that’s been building between us for months, ‘like a sex education video they’d show in schools.’
And then I put both hands on his chest and sink onto him, and I don’t think there’s any universe where this happens and I don’t make a borderline-embarrassing noise at the feel of his body so profoundly interlocked with mine. His thumbs dig into the creases between my thighs and hips as I shift position, slowly easing him out and back in, setting a pace where every movement is torturously drawn out.
His grip on my hips tightens with each passing moment as he guides me onto him, a vein straining in his neck as he watches me. I’m certain no one’s ever looked at me like this before. The usual playful ease in his eyes is now blistering lava instead, and it sears into my skin every time his gaze moves over me. I’m probably being selfish, because what I’m doing has to feel better for me than it does for him, but nothing in his body language tells me I should stop. It’s only when I’m teetering on the edge that he slips a hand between my legs, moving his thumb in response to my quickening pace and shortening gasps. Then, that familiar warmth spills over me like bottled sunlight tipped from my head to my toes, and all I can do is ride it out until I’m a shuddering, boneless wreck against his chest.
I press against him while I attempt to regain control of my breathing; my face tucked into his neck, mouth somewhere near his Adam’s apple. I hear the soft click of his glasses as he sets them on the nightstand, and feel his quiet voice vibrate down his throat when he says, ‘My turn.’
Before I know what’s happening he’s turned us over again, hands landing on either side of my head. He doesn’t move other than to brush my cheekbone with his thumb, and the longer he stays like that, the more eager I get.
‘What are you waiting for?’ I ask. ‘Do you want me to say please?’
He chuckles, a huff of air pulsing between us. ‘No, I don’t want you to say please.’ My lips come apart to meet his and his tongue makes a lazy journey towards mine, curls tickling my face as he moves. ‘We’re just friends, aren’t we?’
I reach between my legs to position him. ‘I’m not feeling very friendly right now.’
‘Good.’ He kisses along my jaw to my lips and then pulls back, and I watch his focus change as he pushes inside me again. ‘Me neither.’
He moves against me painstakingly slowly, never quite giving me all of him the way I want, and it turns me into a writhing mess.
‘Comeon,’ I beg, clutching his arms and shoulders, feeling the muscles move under his skin, willing him to go faster.
By the clench of his jaw I know he wants it too, but there’s a familiarity to the way he’s taunting me. The mischief in his eyes grows with every needy whine I let out, and I realise he’s handling me the way he always does; with aggravating patience and a smirk.
The heat of his mouth drags up my throat and he asks, ‘What do you need from me?’
‘I need you to stop fucking around.’
He laughs, and it appeases a little of the mess in my head. ‘Wrong answer.’
‘You already know what I need,’ I say, shifting position, trying to generate some friction.
‘Probably,’ he replies, nose nudging my jaw. ‘But I want you to tell me.’
The truth rises to the surface when his gaze meets mine. ‘I need however much you’re willing to give me.’
It’s quiet for a few moments, just our ragged breathing breaking the silence.
‘I’d give you everything, Ava,’ he whispers at last.
There’s a flicker of sadness in his eyes, but I don’t want that, not now, not when we’re doing this.
So I wrap my legs around his back and dig my heels in, pushing my hips towards his as hard as I can. The new angle forces out a low noise from deep in his throat, and that’s all it takes for him to drive into me harder and faster at last; my entire body rocking with the force of it, mattress springs complaining with every movement, moans I can’t control tumbling from my lips.
I wind my fingers into the mess of his hair and pull his face towards mine, trying to catch his kiss in the chaos and missing his lips almost every time. I refuse to forget what he feels like, sounds like, looks like in this moment; fierce eyes, sweat forming at his hairline, words spilling out of him that might be curses or compliments or both, melded together into a kind of furious reverence.
