go my snip!!! this is a very old one and actually a response to a prompt by my friend @prism-empurress / @siffussy!!
>The water drums against your skin, so hot it borders on pain, but it barely registers.
Your cheek is pressed to the cool tile, steam swirling around your face, condensation clinging to your eyelashes. You're panting. Trembling. Every breath you take fogs the wall in front of you, only to be wiped clean by the force of Isabeauās rhythm behind youāevery thrust jerking your body forward, harder, deeper, needier.
Heās got your hands in his. Pinned. Tangled. His grip is unrelenting, palms slick but steady, fingers locked between yours like he could anchor himself inside you. Like if he holds on tight enough, heāll never have to let go. You're not sure if heās trying to fuck you or fuse with you, but whatever it is, it has him half-delirious.
You hear him before you see himāragged breathing, low moans, the helpless little sounds that start in his throat and die on your skin.
"I love you," he gasps again. It's ruined. No poise. No charm. Just himāvoice breaking, breath hitching as his hips drive forward, grind against you. āI love you. I love you. IāChange, you feel so goodāI canātāā
His mouth finds your shoulder, your neck, and heās mouthing at your skin like itās the only thing keeping him alive. His teeth graze the curve of your throat as he thrusts again, slow and punishing. You feel the tremor run through himāfrom his chest, pressed tight to your back, to his thighs, slamming forward again, again, again. Heās falling apart and trying to fuck his soul into you at the same time.
You arch into him helplessly. Heās so big, stretching you open, splitting you around the thickness of him, your cunt clenching greedily like it wants to be destroyed. Like it wants to be ruined.
You're burning. Inside and out. Thereās no place untouched by himāhis breath, his hands, his weight, his cock. Itās all-consuming, a fever dream that you never want to wake from.
āI canāt stop,ā Isabeau groans into your skin. āI canāt. You feelāchange, Siffrin, you feel likeālike heaven.ā
And then he shifts his gripāslides one hand down from your wrist, down your arm, wrapping around your waist to pull you tighter against him. The other stays tangled in your fingers, your knuckles white from how tightly youāre holding back.
Heās shaking now. So close. His pace falters, hips jerking with each thrust, his rhythm breaking apart like heās being dragged under.
āTell me you love me,ā he begs, voice hoarse. āSay it. Say it backāplease.ā
Your throatās too dry to speak. Your bodyās too far gone to lie. You want to sob from how deeply heās inside you, from the pressure coiling low in your belly, from the way his voice cracks like heāll die if you donāt give him an answer.
You try to speakātry to say anythingābut it comes out as a broken whimper.
Isabeau just groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, and keeps going, keeps fucking, like heās trying to carve the words into your body with every thrust.
āPlease,ā he breathes, barely more than a whisper now. āPlease, please, pleaseāā
Your body is trembling. His body is trembling.
Every part of you is slickāwater, sweat, arousalālike youāve melted together under the relentless heat of it all. His thrusts have lost any sense of rhythm, any patternājust sharp, frantic pushes that grind you into the wall like heās trying to shove himself all the way inside your chest. And still, his hand stays locked with yours, fingers clenched, holding on like if he lets go for even a second, youāll vanish.
āSay itāsay itāā he chokes out again, voice thick with something thatās more than lust. Itās too raw. Thereās no performance here. No seduction. Just Isabeau, desperately trying not to fall to pieces inside you. āI needāSiffrin, I needāI need to hear itāā
āPlease,ā he says, and now itās not just beggingāitās breaking. His hips stutter again, and a high, wet sob catches in his throat. āPlease, IāI love youāI love you so much I donātādonāt know what to doā!ā
It feels like heās unraveling. Each thrust is shallower, shakier, hips bucking with no control anymore. Heās gasping your name like a prayer, whimpering against your skin, helpless as he teeters on the edge of something so much bigger than just orgasm.
And youāshaking, bracing, full of him, marked by him, loved by himāyou open your mouth, and it spills out:
A breathless whisper, barely audible over the sound of the shower and skin and gasping and need. But it lands.
He cries outāsobsālike itās being torn from his soul, his whole body convulsing against yours as he slams in, once, twice, and then heās burying his face in your shoulder and comingāhot and hard and helpless, cock pulsing deep inside you, hands clutching yours like heās drowning in the feeling.
And he cries. Full-bodied, guttural sobs that wrack his chest, make his voice shake, his knees buckle. Heās whispering it over and over through the tears, through the aftershocks:
āI love you, I love you, I love youāI canātācanāt live without you, SiffrināI canātāā
You hold onto his hand like you never want to let go.
And he holds on like letting go would kill him.<