[attr="class","icon"]

the night had been a blur. the bar felt distant, miles and miles further from the present than just the winding stretch of road they’d driven in on.[break][break]

to hear that she'd believed roman needed protection from him would have typically stung, but the truth didn’t hurt as much as usual, because he could tell it was leading up to something new. something had changed.[break][break]

despite the growing realization, he was stunned by her request. temporarily paralyzed by a spell of timeless adoration and moonshine, and the beauty of her under the peeking light of spring. it was time for beginnings, time for letting go and unfurling—even if this moment might only be brief. even if it might wilt just as quickly, like a morning glory. its blossom gave him hope that more moments would bloom in its wake.[break][break]

he was at a loss for words. nothing would be good enough.[break][break]

with the force of gravity, he was pulled from the pillow, moving closer, paying no mind to the dust on the floor. on his knees in front of her, he gingerly picked up the guitar. he was mindful to set it carefully aside, so as to not bump the tuning pegs.[break][break]

with nothing left between them, he drew close. a hand came up to brush hair behind her ear, and run a thumb across her cheek. he hovered briefly, before meeting her lips with his own.

she's thought about this a lot of different ways. maybe even one day she'll admit that to him - how she would sit on her bed with the guitar in her lap or while she wound flower stems around each other. somewhere along the line, she had stopped wondering about what could have been and instead, turned to what might be. 

the floorboards creak when he moves. there's everything nothing left to say, but she can't bear another minute of hearing her own voice. butterflies blossom in her stomach as he reaches to tug the guitar away from her.

fingers curl in her jeans, breath hitching. he tucks her hair behind her ear, like he always has before he's kissed her, and as he nears it slips right back out, like it always has, and she closes her eyes. 

it's like coming home. it's like finding a piece of herself she hadn't known was missing. her hands come up to his face, fingertips light on his jaw, coaxing as she noses into him. and her lips part with a fervent need, drinking him in like a flower might sunlight. 

boruta maher

☉

[attr="class","icon"]

he’d waited for this moment for years, though mostly having resigned to the likelihood that it wasn’t going to happen. he’d been around long enough for it to be clear she was looking for the right someone else.[break][break]

worry was abandoned for her lips and the memories he couldn’t usually allow himself to feel. it was restorative to be so close to her again, finally. it made him needy with wanting, hungry for the years he’d spent missing her. he began to lean into it gradually.[break][break]

fingers wound with adoring gentleness in her hair, while his other hand slipped slowly down her shoulder. words weren’t uttered. despite the liquor, there was desperate, almost tentative focus.

it's just the creaking of the floorboards under their weight, the light scratch of hands over fabric, her gasp of anticipation swallowed by his mouth on hers. she sighs into him as he draws over her like honey, gently spilling warmth on her lips, trailing it down her side. 

she reaches up and around him; one hand fists in the back of his shirt because they haven't been this close in years and all she wants to do is hold on and not let go. the other reaches up to the locks at the back of his neck, twisting lightly.

and she's back, ten years younger, body taut with youth and anticipation and sheepish nervousness. she's making a happy noise in the back of her throat, stifling it as well as she can so she doesn't ruin the moment. and he's so kind to her, and he's so, so soft.

here and now, she breaks the kiss, inhales, eyes opening wide, and takes him in. her cheeks are flushed. her smile is radiant and then it's falling, though only so she can draw him against her again. 

boruta maher

☉

[attr="class","icon"]

she broke the kiss, and his eyes stayed shut for a moment. this was some intoxicated dream, surely, and one he didn’t want to wake up from. reluctantly, his gaze peeked open again before she was back on his lips, and relief quickly gave way to longing.[break][break]

the trailing of his hands down her sides became less a soft graze and more a firm assurance of all that he still felt for her. curiosity about how she’d changed, and need for all the ways she remained the same.[break][break]

passion rumbled in his throat, and a gentle pull invited her into his lap. there was no thought to stop. he could think tomorrow.

tentative longing is slowly unearthed and beneath is years of her own discarded wanting. everywhere he touches spreads a warm trickle of fervor through her. his hands are the same; they've always been rough, and he's always held her like the worst thing in the world might be to let her go. 

so she knows he's shedding his caution when familiarity wins out. their shifting is in tandem, lips turning as he tugs her into his lap. she stretches up, tongue ghosting his teeth and her fingers curl. 

moonshine sits pleasantly across her brows, in her languid arms. it helps her fill in those gaps still lingering between the two of them. but it also makes the want pooling in her belly near irresistible.

would that be such a bad thing?

she draws back again with a fluttering of her lashes, realizing with a blush she'd been shifting her hips in languid motions against him.

"bo." a breathy smile. her fingers are still twined messily in his hair. "will you spend the night with me?"

boruta maher

☉