There's this thing he does…
She'll be lost in the taste of him, the heat, drowning in the intoxicating depths of want that's beginning to feel endless whenever he's near. And then he'll pull back. His lips, warm and well used, wetted by her tongue will be pulled…just out of reach. She'll chase, like always, and he'll just wait…in the space between. Their shared breaths fully charged, overflowing with possibility, words unspoken – too delicate,too real.
Sometimes he'll stop there. His eyes slowly tracing the path of his thumb as he brushes her lower lip, or the dent in her chin, his rings cold against her skin as he moves to cups her cheek. The blue of his eyes brightening at the sight of her amused smile, somehow knowing she wants to ask, but never will.
Other times, it's merely an intermission, a moment taken before coming back for more, more confident, more insistent – more, more, more. She's often left breathless, kissed so thoroughly her legs want to crumble, the intensity of him without restraint overwhelming…addictive. The pull of her hair caught in his rings ought to be painful, but it never is – the more tangled and twisted together the better, never enough.
Her favorite is when she does it back. The curve of his lips and the nip of his nose, all of his tells that he knows what she's about before he sets out to chase, to play the game. Her fingers will find his collar, or sometimes his neck, pulling him closer as she pulls back – the air jungle thick, static crackling with…anticipation. Sometimes giving in and other times not, knowing next time she can choose differently, winning either way.
It's just this thing…this thing that they do. This thing that she loves. And she knows he loves it, too.