When our lips meet, every form of reasoning obliterates. My mind combust into electric sensations. He growls, taking control of the kiss. Mouth claiming mine with the urgency of a collapsing star. Heat pours between us, reckless and blinding. When my lips part, it isn't an invitation. It’s inevitability. His hand fists into my hair, tilting my head back, and my fingers curl into the front of his shirt as if he might disappear if I don’t anchor him here. He tastes like restraint snapping. Like something he’s been holding back for so long that threatens to swallow him. The kiss deepens, tongues tangling in a slow, hungry orbit. Each stroke discovering. Each stroke demanding. Each stroke damning. It all becomes something desperate and almost feral. Like we are both trying to swallow the ache out of each other. The room tilts. Gravity forgets its rules. There is only this combustion going on inside me, this shared breath, this delicious heat and loss of balance.
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