"Convince me, then."

And so, want pulling him into the mesmerising whirlpool of mercurial eyes, Angelo does.

Although not with a string of careful words, woven together to draw out passionate glowers and delightfully satisfied expressions onto her face.

Nor for the colour their future home would be painted, either.

When he meets Skyler to take an urgent kiss, pushing her lips apart with his, Angelo greedily convinces her to part with breath. Eyes cracked through the steadily rising haze of stormy blue to drink in his golden framed lover, hoarded to him with the press of grasping fingers.

It's an argument she'd no doubt grown intimate with, reciprocates and definitely encourages.

The deep desire for more.

Coaxing tugs at the buttons on his shirt is responded with a counter offer of hands working on her pants. Gluttony met in kind as barriers are pushed aside from the friction of rolling hips and thigh climbing strokes, seeking to fuel the kind of passion and heat campfire embers could only hope to match.

More of her...

And when she finally does submerge him, there's no choice but to fight against the push of gravity. Against unconvincing notions of fate. Rising to paint devout vows of a forever kind of insatiability against her lips.

More of life. Shared with her.

It was theirs. They could try taking it from them, if they dared.

...

“Y'know, this beach house of ours...”

Breath, husky from the taste of liquor, rapture and her, tickles languid like the appreciating touch against Skyler's neck. Travelling over naked skin, marked with stories he'd continue writing when they witness the next moon rise.

“I think I know where we could find one.” He says, further taunting meteors and world destroyers.