Changed up the style. Drabbles are easy on the brain.
Soft
The gentle scrub of fingertips, her weight on your hips; you inhale and your ribcage expands to meet the brush of her palm. She's looking down at you: all gentle, a thin piece of her dark hair caught at the corner of her mouth and she's looking at yours.
Her thumb grazes your bottom lip in a fleeting tag. Now she bites her own. Studying is something she's good at. Studying you is something she does a lot, and she takes her time with it. Light but purposeful movement: pressure, friction; slow and methodical, and careful not to miss any inch of skin she can set her lips on.
Right now she traces her nail down your sternum, her eyes half-lidded and smoky–It's only a matter of time before something catches fire.
"Would you give me the world, Avatar?" low and gruff, her voice hums from her throat, dripping with a weight you feel in your chest. You lean upward to close the space between your bodies because you have less patients than her: you're already burning.
"For you?" It comes out as a husk, your lips brushing. You wind your fingers through her hair and answer:
"Anything."