A flurry of lips, tongues, teeth, limbs–that's how it always is when he comes home. He's stopped knocking at the door when he comes; I guess he really feels comfortible here now. Soft greetings, embraces, short kisses. We talk, catching each other up on time spent apart. Something sparks it: a word, an expression, a smile, a laugh, and before I know it, I'm in his arms, surrounded by him, his smell. Our lips are crashing together, passionate, fighting for dominance--though I'm letting him win. I feel the brush of his tongue across my lower lip, asking permission. He knows he doesn't need it. Tongues meet, exploring each other's mouths, tangling with each other. Hands explore familiar territory that, because of time passed, has become exciting and new. The need for the feel of his skin becomes essential. Shirts are quickly dispensed of, along with any other piece of clothing, thrown carelessly aside–we have no use for them now. We don't notice that it's three o'clock and we're stripping each other naked in the living room, in front of the large windows that happen to have the blinds wide open. It really isn't that important at the moment. All I can think about is if his moans still sound the same as I remember... and there's only one way I can find out.
AN: So. I wrote this drabble a long time ago, a spur of the moment sort of thing, inspired by some Reno/Cloud love. Then I realized it could really be any pairing ever...so it is hereby added...only because I've been told that I really have to have something here after deleting all my old stuff. Enjoyed? Please leave loveee!