18+mdni

the telly’s still murmuring in the background, something half-watched and forgotten, all washed-out colours and canned laughter. the living room smells like tea gone lukewarm and smoke curling lazy shapes toward the ceiling.

matty’s sprawled back against the sofa cushions, bare skin warm under your palms, cigarette balanced between his fingers like it’s always been there. you’re curled over him, thighs trembling where they’re braced on either side of him. everything’s a bit hazy now heat, breath, the dull ache settling deep in your legs.

you’ve been on top of him, not chasing but enjoying every roll of your hips that pushes him deeper inside of you.