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Mid-morning sunlight pours through the windows in broad pale streaks, warming the hardwood floors and catching against the growing maze of boxes scattered through the apartment. Packing paper and tape spill from one onto the rug near the coffee table. The kitchen island is already cluttered with half-filled boxes labelled Kitchen in Tim’s neat block handwriting.
Lucy had insisted she start in the kitchen, packing half-wrapped mugs, loose cutlery, and the random collection of things she had amassed since she moved into the apartment 5 years ago. Despite her insistence, she had abandoned the task halfway through to ‘just quickly do the shelves first’.
And that's where she's currently knelt, sorting through years of accumulated pieces of her life. She stacked the books in small, uneven piles beside her, while a second box lay open for all the smaller things that don’t really belong anywhere else.
She pauses on some items longer than others; tiny trinkets Tamara used to tease her for keeping, Jackson's book on the history of the LAPD. There’s no real system to the packing anymore, despite what she’d claimed an hour ago.
Across the room, Tim lifts another frame from the wall, careful with it in a way he probably doesn’t even realise he’s being. He peels the hook free, wraps bubble wrap and packing paper around the frame, and smooths the tape down firmly along the edges.
The walls behind him are looking increasingly bare, and she notices every empty space as it appears. It makes something in her chest tighten unexpectedly. She knows it’s stupid; she's so extremely happy. The idea of living with him sends a quiet thrill through her every time she remembers it's actually happening.
If someone had told her a year ago that she’d be packing up this apartment to move in with him instead of cautiously trying again, she would’ve thought they were insane. Yet every time another piece of the apartment disappears into a box, she can’t help the quiet feeling of sadness bubbling up.
She glances toward the kitchen, half-expecting to see Tamara stealing her snacks before work, and for one second, she can almost hear Jackson somewhere deeper in the apartment laughing at something he’d seen on ClipTok. Instead, there’s just the sound of paper crinkling as Tim wraps another frame.
He glances briefly at her, probably catching the way she’s gone quieter without meaning to. “You okay?”
She hums automatically at first, reaching for another stack of books. “Yeah.”
The words come out distracted. She slides the pile of books into the box more carefully than necessary, eyes lingering on the shelves behind them, the places they sat for years longer than she realised.
“It feels weird,” she admits after a moment.
He waits for her to continue, giving her a chance to order her thoughts, before starting again.
She leans back slightly, resting against the kitchen island and taking the chance to take in the room around her for what could be the last time. “I think I’m going to miss this place more than I expected.”
He stills a little at that, not because he’s upset by it, just surprised. He’d assumed this would be easy for her, exciting, probably chaotic with her propensity to turn most things into a controlled disaster. He didn’t realise it would be complicated for her.
And she is excited, he knows that. He’s seen it every time she left another toothbrush or sweatshirt at his place over the last week. But this apartment means a lot to her, him too, he realises as he recounts most of their major relationship milestones happening within these four walls.
She exhales shakily through her nose. “I know that sounds stupid because I’m so excited to move in with you, and I am excited,” she quickly adds, “But there's so much history here. At first it was Jackson and me. Then after…” she exhales softly. “Tamara, then you,” a small smile leaves her. “Basically every significant event in my adult life happened here.”
His gaze shifts instinctively around the apartment; he realises now that this place held her together through a lot of things, including their breakup, it makes sense for her to be upset about leaving it behind.
She finally glances up at him, reading his expression immediately. “I’m not having doubts,” she says quickly. “About us, or moving in. I don’t want you to think that.”
“I know,” he says, walking over to where she's sitting. He knows she has no hesitation about their relationship anymore.
His gaze darts briefly around the apartment once more before settling back on her. “We spent a lot of time here together,” he says quietly.
She smiles faintly at that, tucking another book into the box beside her. Most of the beginning of them lies within this apartment. Movie nights that turned into sleepovers because neither of them wanted the night to end, arguments in the kitchen, their first kiss, their last first time together. Even after the breakup, this place somehow still ended up carrying parts of him.
“I really can’t wait to move in with you, though. Even if this is a little bittersweet right now,” she replies softly, pushing herself up to stand.
He smiles at that before turning to survey the room properly. It’s much emptier than it should be for how much life it used to hold. The walls are bare now, most of the decorations have been packed into boxes, and the apartment suddenly looks a lot less like the apartment he had grown to love and more like somewhere she used to live.
He rests a hand briefly on his hip, eyes moving toward the growing stack of artwork packed against the wall. “I’m starting to think I might not have enough wall space for all your paintings.”
Lucy’s laugh comes easily, tilting her head to look at him properly. “I’m pretty sure they’re my walls, too,” she replies, a teasing lilt to her voice.
Tim’s eyebrows lift slightly at her comment, amusement flickering across his face as he looks down at her. “Your walls?” he echoes.
She shrugs one shoulder, the picture of innocence. “Well, yeah,” she says, dusting her hands before reaching for him. “Pretty sure that’s how moving in together works.”
He gives a quiet hum, like he’s considering it seriously, though the look in his eyes says otherwise. “Interesting, but they’re not your walls yet, you haven’t moved in.”
She laughs softly under her breath as he reaches his other hand to slide over the curve of her waist before reaching around to rest low against her back
She steps into him willingly, arms sliding up his chest until her fingers curl loosely around the back of his neck, dipping her fingers into his hair where it's started to grow out just enough for her to play with.
She tips her head back to look at him. “It’s still my home, even if I haven’t officially moved in yet,” her voice quieter now, amusement lingering in her voice. “Unless you’re having second thoughts?” she teases, lips twitching.
The teasing fades from his expression, fingers tightening fractionally against the small of her back. “Never,” he replies instantly.
The words land certain between them, and her smile softens before she can stop it.
For a second, neither of them move. Sunbeams catch against the bare walls behind them, the packed boxes line the floor, filled with the life they’ve spent the morning carefully dismantling. But standing here with his hands on her, she can already picture herself in his kitchen, his bathroom, tangled in his sheets, their lives becoming carefully woven in the same way they had in this apartment.
His eyes flick briefly across her face, catching on the softness in her expression, his thumb brushes once against the fabric against her waist, absentminded and affectionate.
“You tired?” he asks quietly, eyes catching on the faint shadows still sitting beneath hers from her shift.
She huffs a small laugh. “A little.”
“You should’ve slept first,” he replies, thumbs rubbing a soothing motion against the dimples of her back.
“And miss you aggressively bubble-wrap my artwork? Absolutely not.” She grinned, running one hand back down to rest against his chest.
The corner of his mouth twitches, then his eyes drop briefly to her lips.
The shift in the air is subtle but immediate. She can feel it in the way she suddenly becomes hyperaware of every point they’re touching. His palm warm against her back, the steady pressure of his chest against hers, the scrape of her own thumb moving softly against the nape of his neck.
His hands tighten against her back to draw her closer before leaning in the last inch and kissing her softly.
His mouth brushes hers softly at first, then again, slower when she immediately melts into it. Her fingers grip his shirt tighter as she kisses him back, and he exhales quietly against her mouth, pulling her flush to him until there's no space left between them.
The kiss deepens naturally from there. Slow and lingering, more intimate than heated. The kind of kiss that makes her chest ache until she feels pleasantly dizzy.
When she finally pulls back, it’s only enough to breathe. His forehead rests against hers as she smiles, still a little dazed. Their noses brush briefly as they breathe the same air
Her lips curve softly as she opens her eyes to look up at him. “You know,” she murmurs, voice still rough from kissing him, “I think we should give the apartment a proper goodbye.”
Heat flashes across his face, a smirk already tugging at the corner of his lips while one hand slides from her back up along her side. His fingertips trace lightly across her ribs before settling against the side of her neck, thumb brushing beneath her jaw in a way that makes her breath catch.
He leans in again, close enough that his mouth almost catches hers before he pauses. “Is that right?” he asks quietly.
Lucy hums softly, eyes half-lidded as he tilts her face toward him.
“What exactly do you have in mind?” he questions.
She smiles against the small space between them, but instead of answering, she closes the remaining distance herself and kisses him.
The kiss changes almost instantly. What had started as soft and lingering turns hungry within seconds, whatever restraint they’d been holding onto moments ago disappearing completely.
His hand tightens sharply against her waist, pulling her into him hard enough that she stumbles slightly against his chest before he steadies her. The movement only seems to make something in him snap further because the kiss becomes deeper, rougher, all urgency and heat.
She kisses him back just as desperately, fingers tangling in his hair as their mouths slide against each other messily. Every kiss feels like chasing the next one before it’s even finished, their mouths parting and finding one another again, like neither of them can stand even a millimetre of distance.
Everything around them disappears beneath the overwhelming awareness of him. She can feel the scrape of his stubble against her skin every time he tilts her head for a better angle, can feel the uneven rhythm of his breathing when she lets out a quiet, breathy sound against his mouth, and the pounding of his heartbeat through his shirt where her hand is pressed to his chest.
The solid warmth of his body presses her back until she hits the edge of the kitchen island. She lets out a soft sound as he presses himself more firmly against her, using the counter as leverage. The hand at her back spreads wider beneath her shirt, rough palm sliding over the warm skin, as he uses the leverage to grind against her, letting her feel exactly how she affects him.
She whimpers as a sharp jolt of arousal pulses through her. He swallows the sound down, pressing his tongue into her mouth as another helpless sound drags out of her. The kiss turns desperate for a second, tongues battling for dominance until she drags her nails lightly against the back of his neck, and he has to pull away, a low sound escaping him. His head dips back down, kissing her rougher as he sucks harshly on her top lip, before nipping against it and forcing her mouth back open for him.
She barely has time to register the shift before he starts guiding her backwards towards the bedroom, reminiscent of the path they took the first time they even took that final step together. She laughs softly against his mouth in surprise, but it dissolves when he kisses her again, even more intense than before.
Her hand slides up to join the other behind his neck for balance as he guides her between boxes, never once breaking contact. Every few steps, his mouth leaves hers only long enough to drag across her jaw or catch briefly at her lower lip, before finding her again.
His hand keeps moving beneath her shirt as they walk, fingertips brushing against the small of her back, then higher, then lower again like he’s still trying to memorise the feeling of her. Heat curls low in her stomach when the hand in her hair tugs lightly until he has her where he wants her to deepen the kiss further. She feels heady from it, almost like she's drunk on him.
By the time they make it the few steps to the bedroom doorway, their breathing has gone equally uneven. He backs her into the room without slowing down, mouth still moving against hers with the same overwhelming intensity he approaches everything with.
Then, without ever fully breaking the kiss, he reaches behind himself and kicks the bedroom door shut.
He keeps kissing her even as he backs her deeper into the bedroom, hands firm and steady at her back, like he can’t stop touching her now he’s started.
The back of her legs hit the mattress a second later, a soft breath escaping her as she staggers slightly. The sound disappears immediately beneath his mouth as he follows her down, the hand at the small of her back sliding securely against her as he guides her carefully onto the bed.
The sheets bunch beneath her palms as she falls back against them, hair spreading across the sheets as Tim follows her down without hesitation. Her thighs part instinctively to make room for him between them as she struggles for breath.
He pulls back just enough to see her sprawled beneath him for half a second, his gaze pure heat, pupils blown wide. She feels another pulse of heat curl low in her stomach at the expression on his face.
“Move up,” he murmurs, voice roughened slightly.
She shifts back automatically, pushing herself further onto the bed while he follows close behind, one knee settling between her thighs, applying enough pressure to send a ripple of pleasure through her. She whimpers quietly at the pressure, torn between grinding down into him and waiting like she knows he wants her to. He quickly pulls his own shirt off before returning to her, watching as her pupils dilate, taking in his exposed chest.
One of his hands slides down to grip firmly around her thigh, thumb pressing into the sensitive skin until her legs part wide enough for him to settle more fully between them. She welcomes the solid weight of him with a quiet inhale that seems to affect him more than she intended.
He leans back down, kissing her with a hunger that makes her immediately melt beneath him, one hand clutching at his shoulder while the other tangles helplessly in his hair. He sucks her lip into his mouth, and she lets out a strangled noise, hips arching into him automatically, chasing friction wherever she can get it, greedy for it now.
He smirks into her mouth, using the opportunity to run his tongue along the seam of her open lips and swirl his tongue around hers. Her fingers tighten in his hair as his mouth moves against hers with growing urgency.
She tries to roll her hips up again, searching for relief from the throbbing between her thighs, panties already slick with her arousal, but the hand on her thigh tightens immediately, holding her still.
“Tim,” she whimpered against his mouth, half complaint, half plea.
His only response is a low hum, before his hands slide beneath the hem of her shift, palms dragging slowly upward. She shivers at the roughness of his touch, stomach tightening as his calloused hands move against her overheated skin.
By the time he pulls the fabric over her head, her pulse is racing hard enough she’s sure he can feel it. His eyes drag back over her, focused entirely on her in a way that makes her feel pinned beneath his attention before he’s even touching her again.
“Jesus,” he groans.
Her face burns hotter at the sound, even as desire twists sharply through her, the pressure between her thighs already threatening to become unbearable.
He reaches behind her, fingers brushing against her spine in the process, and unclasps her bra with practised ease, before dragging the straps down slowly to remove the final barrier between them.
He lets out a low groan at the sight, the sound alone causing her to tighten her thighs around him.
A faint smirk pulls at his mouth when he notices, his hands moving back to her hips to hold her steady as he begins kissing down her neck.
She gasps softly at the scrape of his stubble against the sensitive skin, fingers tangling in the sheets beneath her as she tilts her head back to give him more room.
He continues pressing chaste kisses against the column of her neck, working lower, slower, his mouth lingering deliberately over every place he already knows makes her react. His weight between her thighs, the warmth of his mouth, the way his hands keep flexing against her hips like he’s fighting the urge to touch everywhere all at once, do nothing but wind her tighter.
Her fingers flex before tightening around the sheets when he reaches her tattoo, a helpless sound slipping from her lips before she can stop it.
He moans quietly in response, the sound vibrating against her skin.
The world dissolves completely when he mouths at the delicate skin in the exact way he already knows will wreck her. Tongue soothing the marks he’s left until her back arches clean off the mattress.
Her pussy throbs as the seam of her jeans presses against her almost uncomfortably as she soaks entirely through her panties and jeans.
She hooks one leg around his hips, desperately trying to pull him closer and get some kind of relief, but Tim catches her thigh almost immediately, hand wrapping firmly around it before she can move properly.
“Stay still,” he grunts.
The command only makes her shiver beneath him.
He kisses lower now, across her collarbone and down her sternum, sucking dark purple bruises into her skin as he goes. Her hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging harshly into the muscle, as he continues across her chest, taking his time despite knowing how overwhelmed the feeling of his mouth and the scratch of his stubble is making her.
Her breathing turns uneven when he closes his mouth around one nipple, the warmth of his tongue pulling a broken sound from her, while his thumb brushes teasingly over the other.
She twists and squirms as much as his grasp on her hips allows, trying to press herself closer and find any relief.
“Please,” she whimpers, not even caring how desperate she sounds anymore.
He glances up at her from where he’s kissing down her chest, eyes dark enough to make her stomach flip, focused entirely on her, like watching her unravel is as much for him as it is for her.
“Please what?” he cooes, reaching one hand from her hips up to brush gently against her cheek.
The question is cruel considering how thoroughly he’s already ruined her ability to think.
She can only make a frustrated little sound as he smirks down at her, before sliding his hand down to work at the button on her jeans. Her hips lift automatically, too desperate to feel embarrassed at how quickly she’s unravelling. His hands make quick work of her jeans, sliding them down in one smooth motion along with her panties. The cool air against her skin makes her shudder as he tosses her clothes aside.
He settles back between her thighs slowly afterwards, gaze dragging slowly down her flushed body until it stills at the arousal coating her thighs. Her breath catches immediately under the intensity of the look on his face. The satisfaction and hunger in his eyes when he realises exactly how wet she is for him.
“Fucking hell, Lucy,” he rasps, thumbs pressing into the inside of her thighs to keep her open for him as she arches against him.
Her hips jerk instinctively toward him, desperately seeking pressure as the pleasure already threatens to pull her under. One of her hands returns to grip the sheets beside her, tightening there as the other holds onto his forearm, searching for purchase as her pulse thrums rhythmically in her ears.
His hands immediately tighten their hold on her, as her nails dig deeper into his forearm.
“Please, Tim,” she chokes out, the little sounds of frustration slipping from her lips, widening the smirk tugging at his mouth.
“You’re impatient today,” he huffed, clearly having too much fun teasing her as his thumbs stroked gently across her skin.
“Tim,” she whimpers, taking a moment to collect herself before continuing.
“Stop teasing me, or I’ll just get myself off,” she breathed out, watching his eyes widen impossibly more before he grabs both of her hands, pinning them hard to the bed.
He holds her gaze as he leans down between her thighs, and finally, his mouth finds her.
The second the teasing stops, her entire body reacts.
Her hips jump off the mattress, a sharp gasp breaking from her lips as her head falls back against the pillows. The sound catches his attention, his eyes flicking up to her face, watching the way her lips part with a breathy gasp, face contorting with pleasure.
“Fuck…” she chokes out, fingers twisting desperately for purchase as pleasure begins to roll through her.
He lets out a low sound of satisfaction at the reaction, one hand holding her wrist securely while the other moves down to wrap around her thigh in an attempt to hold her still, fingertips tracing absent circles over the fleshy skin before settling there to steady her.
He presses his lips more securely to her, tongue dipping into her cunt, lapping at the arousal steadily dripping out of her.
Her moans break apart with a breathy whimper as she twists restlessly beneath him. Every nerve ending feels too sensitive as he closes his lips around her clit, circling his tongue around it before sucking against the bundle of nerves.
“Tim…” she pleads, unsure of what she was even asking for. Her head feels fuzzy, and she feels like she’s drowning in pleasure as he redoubled his efforts.
She flexes against his hold, head shaking weakly as another helpless sound escapes her.
One corner of his mouth pulls upward briefly at her reaction, his hands remaining firm on her wrist and hip as she squirms, trying to arch higher, grinding her pussy against his mouth as much as his hold on her allows.
“That’s it,” he murmurs roughly. “You taste so good, all for me.”
She whines at the sound of his voice, her head rolling helplessly against the pillows. One hand leaves the sheets, reaching blindly until she finds his forearm once more. She latches onto him immediately, nails pressing into his skin.
Something soft flashes in his eyes when he realises she’s reaching for him, his thumb brushes softly over the dip of her hip before drifting upward to her stomach, feeling the uneven breaths she's gasping for.
She’s breathing hard now. Chest rising and falling rapidly, her hair spread wildly in a halo around her as her eyes squeeze shut and her lips part around a steady stream of breathless sounds.
His tongue flicks gently against her clit, sending jolts of pleasure through her as her pussy flutters around nothing. His eyes are fixed on her flushed chest as his tongue dips back down to her entrance, finally entering her as he fucks her with his tongue.
His nose nudges against her clit as he laps at her gushing pussy, arousal covering his face and smearing over the inside of her thighs
She shakes her head weakly as the coil in her stomach tightens quicker than she can comprehend.
“Tim..” she gasps, voice cracking as another moan spills from her lips.
“Look at me,” he husks, still pinning her shaking thighs to the mattress.
Her eyes flutter open, a dazed look on her face as she sobs in pleasure. Their gazes meet, and somehow, seeing the dark look in his eyes and the arousal coating his skin is what pushes her over the edge.
“Tim…” she cries out, his name tearing from her throat as her entire body arches into him.
Her orgasm crashed into her so quickly she doesn’t have time to process it. One second she’s desperately trying to catch her breath, and the next her entire body goes rigid, a gush of wetness flowing into his open mouth.
She can barely hear anything over the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. She can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything except cling to him and shake.
He immediately gentles her, tongue slowing against her as her orgasm rolls through her with enough intensity to cause tears to form in the corner of her eyes.
His hand leaves her wrist and moves back to her hips, brushing soothing circles there while his other hand strokes slowly up and down her leg as she begins to come down from her high.
“That’s it, Luce. Just breathe for me,” he murmurs, lips moving to press a chaste kiss against the inside of her knee.
She can only sob softly in response, lips parted as she drags in uneven breaths, body still trembling uncontrollably, little aftershocks rippling through her as she struggles to remember how breathing works.
“Good girl,” he murmurs affectionately, voice quiet as he eases her through the aftershocks wrecking her body.
She sobs softly at the praise, fingers curling weekly round his wrists as the intensity begins to ebb away. Eventually, the shaking starts to ease, her breathing returning back to normal as he presses kisses up both thighs, thumbs still working soothingly against her hips.
By the time she manages a proper breath, she’s completely boneless beneath him. Head thrown back, eyes closed, lips parted as her chest rises and falls rapidly as she sucks in another breath.
Tim continues running one hand slowly up and down her thigh as the other reaches up to brush the damp strands away from her forehead, watching her with a quiet kind of satisfaction.
When she eventually opens her eyes, their gazes meet, and the look in his eyes makes her weak all over again. She reaches a hand up to brush against his nape before pulling him softly up her body until their lips meet once more.
The kiss starts slow, just a soft brush of her mouth against his.
His hand on her thigh strokes lazily up her body before resting against the arch of her back to pull her closer to him. She smiles faintly against his lips at the movement, her fingertips scratching lightly through the strands of his grown-out hair.
He hums contentedly at the feeling before slipping his own hand into her hair, fingers buried deep enough to hold her there while he angles her face back and deepens their kiss.
The surprised little sound she makes immediately earns a low groan from him, his grip in her hair tightening just shy of too much. She softens beneath him, mouth opening eagerly for him as he soothes the sting with his tongue.
His thumb brushes along her jaw as he deepens the kiss further, lips sliding together almost erotically as the scrape of his stubble against her skin makes her shiver.
Her hands begin moving almost automatically. Down his shoulders, over the hard planes of his chest, across his stomach. She’s barely thinking anymore, nothing past the need to have him closer.
By the time she reaches his belt, her fingers are past cooperation. Fingertips fumbling against the leather as she huffs out a frustrated breath when she misses the buckle one, twice, three times. His cock is already straining hard against the denim as her hands work messily against the bulge in his pants.
He’s laughing softly against her lips, the sound vibrating between them when he lets out a groan.
“Easy there, Luce,” he murmurs, amusement and affection mingling in his voice despite his own arousal thrumming through him.
She makes an indignant little noise, refusing to stop, and only growing more impatient as she kisses him back harder.
He chuckles again, his hand leaving her hair long enough to trail it slowly down her body, over the stiff peaks of her nipples and the taught skin of her stomach, calloused fingertips skimming over every inch of skin he can find.
She gasps softly, a shiver wracking her frame at the movement as she tilts her head to watch as he catches her frantic hands gently before brushing his thumb over her knuckles and taking over himself.
He makes quick work of the buckle before reaching for the button on his jeans, desperate to remove the insistent pressure against his bulge.
She huffs impatiently as he works the button open and zip down. “You’re taking too long.”
“I’m taking too long?” he repeats, eyebrows lifting as he stills his movement against the opening of his jeans.
“Yes…” she groans, eyes pleading with him. “Please, Tim, I need you.”
He quickens after that, mouth returning to hers in a ragged kiss as he finally manages to open the front of his pants and begin pushing them over his hips.
She helps immediately, pushing insistently at the denim along with his boxers until he finally manages to kick the discarded fabric away, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach with the motion.
Before he can even settle himself again, she's wrapping both arms around his neck and pulling him straight back down, nails biting into the first bit of skin she finds. He grunts softly in surprise, the sound quickly swallowed when she kisses him hard enough to leave him groaning.
Her thighs wrap around his hips, ankles locking behind the small of his back to pull him closer, and using the leverage to grind her dripping cunt against his hard cock.
The movement pulls a low groan from him as he grabs her hips, tightening his hold against the soft skin to rut against her warm heat.
The pressure causes her to break the kiss, her head tipping back in a shaky moan as the grip on his shoulders tightens.
“Tim,” she whispers breathlessly, forcing herself to look at him. “Please… I can’t wait…”
His eyes close briefly, forehead dropping to hers with a quiet groan. He reaches down and wraps his hand around his cock, hissing at the contact as he strokes up and down his shaft a few times, smearing precum down the length, before notching his tip against her entrance.
He pulls back to watch her face as he slides into her with one slow, devastating thrust. The moans that tear from both of them is enough to drown out the wet sound of the movement.
Her mouth falls open, a broken gasp spilling out of her as her body stretches to accommodate him. The overwhelming fullness steals the air from her lungs, and her back arches off the mattress, pressing her chest against him as the hair on his chest rubs against her already overstimulated nipples.
“Fuck,” Tim groans, voice strained as his head falls to her neck.
He stills above her, muscles trembling with the effort of holding back, letting her adjust to the fullness. His mouth finds the column of her throat, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses against her pulse point while her cunt flutters around him, clenching and unclenching as her body adjusts to his size.
She’s already trembling beneath him, her thighs tightening against his hips to pull him impossibly closer. The pressure is maddening. Too much and not enough at the same time as she fights to breathe against the pressure threatening to swallow her whole. She needs him to move, needs the friction of him before she totally combusts.
“Tim,” she whimpers, voice already thin and desperate. “Please. Move… I need… I need you to move.”
He doesn’t make her ask twice.
He pulls back slowly, until only the tip of him remains inside, before snapping his hips forward with enough force to make her cry out, breathy moans escaping her as her fingers clench against his shoulders.
The pace he sets is devastatingly slow, but impossibly deep, each thrust deliberate and measured, hitting that spot inside her that makes white sparks dance across her vision. Her head tips back against the pillows once more, a string of expletives falling from her lips as her nails rake down the muscles in his back, leaving dark trails in their wake.
“God. You feel so good,” she manages between gasps, her voice trembling as he fucks back into her. “So… ah… so full.”
He groans against her skin, the sound vibrating through her chest where they’re pressed together.
His grip on her hips tightens to the point of bruising as he drives into her again and again, each thrust hitting deeper than the last until the tip of his cock is brushing against her cervix. The wet, obscene sound of their bodies meeting fills the room alongside their heavy breathing and moans. The headboard creaks softly against the wall with every thrust, adding to the eroticism.
Her hands slide back up and down his back, feeling the muscles shift and flex beneath her palms with every movement. She pulls him closer, nails digging into the firm flesh of his ass, as she urges him closer, harder, needing more.
“Harder,” she whimpers against his ear, teeth catching against the lobe. “Please. I can take it. I want it harder.”
He makes a rough sound low in his throat, and then he’s shifting, pulling back to give him better leverage. His hands slide down to grip her thighs, lifting them effortlessly and hooking her calves over his shoulders.
The new angle changes everything. He slides even deeper, impossibly so. She cries out, back bowing off the bed as he thrusts forward for the first time in this position, heady pleasure crashing through her.
“Oh my god!” she chokes out, fingers twisting desperately against him as the coil in her stomach begins to pull impossibly tight.
He sets a relentless pace now, each thrust hitting deeper, making her vision blur and her toes curl. Her moans grow louder, more wanton, echoing off the bare walls.
She’s trembling constantly now, her body wound tight in ecstasy. His own breathing grows ragged above her, each noise pulled from her pushing him closer to the edge. His jaw clenches as he fights to maintain control and get her there first.
“You close?” he asks, voice rough and strained.
“Yes,” she gasps out. “Yes. I’m… Tim… I’m so close… Don’t stop…Please don’t stop…”
He can already feel her cunt fluttering around him, thighs shaking against his shoulders as her orgasm threatens to take over. His hand moves from her thigh, snaking down between them, fingers finding her clit and rubbing tight, relentless circles. Her whole body jerks at the contact, a sharp cry tearing from her throat as she squeezes her eyes closed.
And then the door bangs open.
“Lucy? Tim? You guys still here?”
Celina’s voice carries through the apartment, bright and casual, and Lucy freezes instantly, eyes snapping open. Her entire body goes rigid beneath him, panic flooding her features as she presses her hand over her own mouth. Her eyes wide and terrified, darting between Tim and the closed bedroom door.
He stills for half a second, hips pressed flush to her as he watches her wide eyes and the flush spreading down her chest.
Then he smirks.
He draws back and thrusts into her again, hard and deep, and Lucy’s entire body jerks. A muffled sound escapes against her palm, her eyes rolling back as her free hand slaps desperately against his chest.
“Stop,” she whisper-hisses, her voice strained and pleading. “Tim, we have to stop. She’s going to hear us…”
He doesn’t stop. If anything, he fucks her harder, his pace relentless and punishing. His eyes stay locked on hers, that infuriating smirk still playing at his lips as he watches her struggle to keep quiet.
“You need to answer her,” he murmurs, voice low and rough as he sucks another hickey against her neck. “Or she’s going to come looking for us.”
Lucy’s eyes widen further with that, panic and pleasure warring across her face. “I can’t… You’re…”
“Lucy?” Celina calls again, voice closer now as her footsteps pad across the hardwood floors in the main room. “You guys still packing?”
His hips snap forward again, and Lucy’s hand slams harder against her mouth, a broken sound escaping her despite her best efforts, he pussy clenching involuntarily around him.
“Tim,” she whimpers against her palm, half plea, half moan, as he continues fucking into her, each thrust deep and deliberate.
He leans down, mouth brushing against her ear, as he buries his face in her hair. “Answer her,” he repeats, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through her entire body.
She lets out a strangled sound as her chest heaves, her entire body trembling with the effort of staying quiet. She removes her hand from her mouth, gasping for breath.
“We’re… ah… we're here,” she manages, her voice cracking embarrassingly. “Just… packing up the bedroom.”
The footsteps pause. “Oh, okay! I just forgot my charger. I’ll be gone in like two seconds!”
Tim doesn’t slow down, if anything, his pace increases with a renewed urgency following Celina’s response. His fingers return to Lucy’s clit, rubbing tight circles as her hand slams back over her mouth, her eyes squeezing shut in an effort to keep quiet.
“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs against her neck, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin beneath her ear. “Such a good girl for me.”
She preens at the praise, the coil in her stomach tightening relentlessly. She can barely think or breathe, every nerve ending in her body feeling like it's on fire. The combination of Tim inside her and his fingers against her clit and the very real fear of being caught pushes her closer and closer to the edge.
“Tim,” she gasps against her hand, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m… I’m going to…”
“Come for me,” he growls. “Come on my cock, Lucy, so I can fill you up.”
Her second orgasm crashes through her without warning, her entire body seizing as her cunt clamps down around him so tightly he can barely move. She buries her face against his shoulder, screaming into his skin as wave after wave of pleasure tears through her.
He follows her over the edge immediately after, the clenching motion of her pussy dragging him with her. He buries himself deep inside her, groaning as his cock pulses, filling her completely. His hips stutter, grinding against her as he rides out his own release.
They stay tangled together, both trembling and breathing heavily as aftershocks wrack through them. His forehead drops to her shoulder, his breath coming in ragged pants, and her legs slide from his shoulders, falling weakly to the mattress as she shivers beneath him.
“Holy shit,” she breathes, voice wrecked from the noises she’d been making.
A door slams somewhere in the apartment. The front door, Celina leaving, they both hear it.
Lucy’s face flushes deeply. “She definitely heard us.”
Tim laughs softly against her skin, pressing a lazy kiss to her collarbone. “Probably.”
He lifts his head to look at her, the same satisfied smirk still playing at his lips. “I love you,” he murmurs, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face.
Her expression softens, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. “I love you too,” she whispers. “Even if you did try to get us caught.”
His smirk only widens, and he presses a gentle kiss to her lips before carefully pulling out. Both of them groan at the loss, his release following, dripping out of her in a steady stream and onto the bed below, as her cunt clenches around nothing.
He stares for a second at the cum gushing out of her before reaching a finger down to swirl around the mess they’d made. He brings his finger up to his lips and makes a show of cleaning it off. She whimpers as she watches his tongue swirl around the digit, making sure to leave none behind.
“I’ll get a cloth,” he says quietly, pressing another chaste kiss to her lips before rolling off the bed and padding toward the connected bathroom.
She turns her head to watch him leave before settling back into the mattress, a small smile spreading across her face. She stays exactly where she is, boneless and thoroughly satisfied, thighs still spread when Tim returns with a warm washcloth.
When he returns, he takes his time cleaning her up as gently as he can, even when she hisses at the contact, body still oversensitive. When he’s done, his eyes meet hers, a promise burning in them.
“I’m going to make a mess of you again later,” he says, his voice low and certain. “When we’re back at our place.”
Her smile widens at that. “Is that a promise?”
He shrugs, but his eyes remain heated. “We have a lot of surfaces to officially christen.”
She laughs softly, reaching up to pull him down for another kiss. “I’m holding you to that. But first, I think we need a nap.”
He pulls back to raise an eyebrow at her, but immediately gives in to her request as she begins tugging at his wrist to get him to move over her.
The minute he settles against the sheets, she has her leg thrown over his, her face burying into his chest so she can feel his heartbeat against her cheek.
“We can pack later,” she murmurs, sleep already threatening to take hold.
“Okay,” he replies simply, watching her as her breathing begins to even out, before allowing himself to drift off too.
They have all the time in the world now he’s got her back, because he doesn’t plan on ever letting her go.