Touch
so much that it hurts
With his fingers curved around her hips, his lips graze her skin in hurried, frantic kisses. He can feel that familiar yet still intoxicating pressure of her fingers digging into his scalp, tugging at his hair. As he presses his lips to the patch of skin just above her navel, his fingers slowly and deliberately unfasten the button of her cut-off shorts, inching the zipper downward, but it isn’t until he drags the tattered denim over her hipbones that he looks up at her.
A soft chuckle tumbles through the space between them, the warmth of his breath landing on her skin. “That’s some interesting ink you’ve got there, Anne Frank.”
She mumbles a slightly bewildered “huh?” before she tilts her head, trying to get a glimpse of his expression.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen some pretty good tramp stamps, but damn, yours takes the cake.”
She raises up, propped up on her elbows as she rakes a hand through her disheveled locks. “What can I say: I wanted a tattoo, but I wasn’t quite ready for the first-class ticket to hell.”
Though Dean comes close to rolling his eyes at her, he can’t help but laugh to himself. “And you thought a Jew tat would throw the scale your way?”
She shrugs before she collapses back into the pillows. “I figured it couldn’t hurt..”
His lips linger in the hollow of her hip, his tongue lightly tracing the star pattern before he nips at the delicate skin.
“Well mazel tov,” he replies, and his grin refuses to fade as he dips between her thighs.
A soft chuckle tumbles through the space between them, the warmth of his breath landing on her skin. “That’s some interesting ink you’ve got there, Anne Frank.”
She mumbles a slightly bewildered “huh?” before she tilts her head, trying to get a glimpse of his expression.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen some pretty good tramp stamps, but damn, yours takes the cake.”
She raises up, propped up on her elbows as she rakes a hand through her disheveled locks. “What can I say: I wanted a tattoo, but I wasn’t quite ready for the first-class ticket to hell.”
Though Dean comes close to rolling his eyes at her, he can’t help but laugh to himself. “And you thought a Jew tat would throw the scale your way?”
She shrugs before she collapses back into the pillows. “I figured it couldn’t hurt..”
His lips linger in the hollow of her hip, his tongue lightly tracing the star pattern before he nips at the delicate skin.
“Well mazel tov,” he replies, and his grin refuses to fade as he dips between her thighs.
♠ ♠ ♠
This is another fill for my dean100 table, and the prompt for this one was "touch." Obviously, being me, my mind automatically dives into the gutter.Feedback is always appreciated.