go down, soft sound

you love his room. it so ross.

and it always smells like him.

not in a strange way just a mix of old vinyl, cheap incense and something faintly smoky that clings to the curtains no matter how often he opens the window. you think if you bottled it, you’d carry it everywhere.

you’re sprawled across his bed, chin tucked into his pillow, fingers idly tracing the frayed seam of his duvet. there’s a record sleeve on his nightstand, cds stacked precariously on the floor, cables snaking everywhere. one of his basses leans against the wall.

this is his own world.

ross is perched on the open window ledge, one foot braced against the frame, the other dangling out into the night. cigarette between his fingers, flannel hanging loose over a worn white shirt, hair a bit of a mess like he’s been running his hands through it all evening.

you tilt your head to look at him.

“how was practice?”

he shrugs, like it doesn’t matter, like it never really does. takes a drag, cheeks hollowing slightly before he exhales out into the cold air.

“t’was alright,” he says, “matty’s in a proper state, though. keeps goin’ on about that gig next week.”

you grin into the pillow. “nervous?”

“petrified,” ross mutters, glancing back at you. “which is ridiculous, ‘cause the audience is gonna be, what — a bunch of nans who can’t hear properly anyway?”

you laugh, soft and sleepy, and it makes his mouth twitch like he’s trying not to smile too much.

“still a gig, right?” you say.

he tilts his head, considering that, then gives in with a small nod. “yeah… suppose so.”

there’s a pause filled only by the faint hum of the night outside and his soft inhales.

then, a bit more tentative, he adds, “you gonna come?”

you shift onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow, studying him. “would you want me to?”

he snorts lightly, like that’s the daftest thing you’ve said all evening. “obviously.”

your lips curl.

he flicks ash out the window, then jerks his head slightly toward himself. “c’mere.”

you slide off the bed, bare legs brushing against the cool air, and pad across the room. he shifts just enough to make space, spreading his legs a bit as you step between them. his hand steadies at your waist as you settle back against him, your spine fitting neatly to his chest like you’ve done it a hundred times before.

he’s warm. warmer than the room. warmer than anything.

for a moment, neither of you says anything. his chin rests lightly near your shoulder, cigarette hand hanging lazily outside the window.

“so,” he murmurs, “will you come?”

you nod, leaning back into him. “i’d love to.”

you feel the smile before you see it, the way his chest shifts, the small breath that leaves him like he’s relieved.

“brilliant,” he says, almost to himself, “now i’m nervous about it.”

you turn your head slightly, brow furrowing. “what? why?”

he huffs a small laugh, but there’s something shy tucked into it. “don’t wanna be a fuck up in front of you, do i.”

you shake your head immediately, reaching up to pluck the cigarette from his fingers before he can protest. you bring it to your lips, taking a careful drag, trying not to cough, you’ve done this before, but never quite as casually as he does.

“you aren’t a fuck up,” you say, exhaling slowly out the window. “and you could never be.”

he hums, unconvinced.

you glance back at him, eyes soft. “honestly, i’d be way too distracted lookin’ at you to notice if anything went wrong.”

that gets him.

you feel it, the way he stills for half a second, the way his grip on your waist tightens just a touch.

he leans down slightly, voice brushing warm against your ear. “s’that so?”

you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“yeah.”

he nudges your chin gently, guiding you to turn your head toward him. his forehead nearly bumps yours, noses just shy of touching, breath mingling in the cool air drifting through the window.

then he kisses you.

his hand slides a little higher along your side. he tastes like smoke and weirdly enough you love it.

you lean into it, fingers curling lightly into his flannel, and he makes this quiet sound, barely there.

he doesn’t pull away very far.

just enough that your lips part, that you can feel his breath against your mouth, a bit uneven like he’s forgotten how to do it properly. his forehead lingers near yours, eyes half-lidded, like he’s deciding whether to kiss you again or say something first.

he chooses the latter, barely.

“sorry, by the way,” he murmurs, “practice ran stupid late.”

you blink at him, like it’s nothing, because it is nothing. not really.

“doesn’t matter,” you say, leaning in to press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. “i’m here now.”

you waited for his text, that came at nearly one in the morning that you could come over now. you immediately grabbed your bike and rode over to his house, which took you about three minutes.

that seems to settle something in him. his shoulders drop just slightly, tension easing as he huffs a quiet little breath through his nose.

“yeah,” he says, “yeah, you are.”

you hand the cigarette back to him, fingers brushing, and as you shift a bit in his hold the cold air from the window slips under your top, making you shiver.

he notices immediately.

“you cold?” he asks, already frowning a bit.

you nod, tucking yourself a little closer into him. “a bit.”

“right – yeah, hang on.”

he leans back awkwardly, stretching one arm behind him without letting you go completely, fingers blindly searching until they hook onto something. there’s a soft clatter as a hanger shifts, then he grabs a zip-up and pulls it free, bringing it forward.

“here,” he says, offering it to you. “put that on before you freeze to death.”

you smile, taking it. “thank you.”

he presses a quick, absent-minded kiss to your forehead while you slip one arm through, then the other, the sleeves a bit too long so they bunch at your wrists. it smells like him too. you’re consumed by him.

“fits you better than me anyway,” he mumbles, watching as you tug it into place.

“that’s a lie,” you say, amused, glancing up at him.

he shrugs, but there’s a faint grin tugging at his mouth. his fingers come up, absent-mindedly playing with a strand of your hair, twisting it loosely before letting it fall again.

you lean forward, pressing another soft kiss somewhere along his cheek, just because you can.

“ross?”

“mm?” he hums.

you hesitate for half a second, even though you’ve done this million times, even though you already know the answer.

“can i stay the night tonight?”

his expression shifts instantly, like the question barely needed asking.

“course you can, love,” he says, “would’ve wanted you to stay anyway.”

your smile comes without thinking.

“yes?”

“yeah,” he nods, glancing at you like it should’ve been obvious. “bit pointless you ridin’ back at this hour, innit. and…” he pauses, scratching lightly at the back of his neck. “i like havin’ you here.”

“i like being here,” you reply.

he looks at you for a second longer than usual, like he’s trying to memorise that, then clears his throat lightly and turns back to the window.

“m’glad.”

he takes one last drag of the cigarette, tapping the ash off before carefully setting it on the outside ledge.

“don’t tell my mum,” he mutters.

you grin. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

he glances back at you, then asks, “you tired at all?”

you meet his eyes, biting your lip just slightly before shaking your head.

“not really.”

there’s a flicker of something in his expression.

“that’s— good,” he says, a quiet laugh slipping out.

“really good,” he nods, pushing himself up from the window. “means you can keep me company a bit longer. he gestures lightly with his head. “c’mon, up with you.”

you stand as he does, the space between you shifting as he reaches past to pull the window shut. it clicks softly into place, the room instantly warmer without the night air creeping in.

he lingers there for a second, hand still on the frame, then turns back to you.

“better?” he asks, nodding toward the now-closed window.

you step a little closer, the oversized sleeves slipping over your hands. “much better.”

“good,” he says. “can warm you up though.”

you wrap your arms around his neck and nod.

“you want that, love?”

“yes.”

that’s all he needs.

he dips his head, kissing you again.

you hum quietly against his mouth, fingers curling into the back of his flannel, and he smiles into the kiss.

“y’know,” he mumbles between it, barely pulling back, “you’re a bit distracting.”

you grin. “am i?”

“yeah,” he breathes.

you don’t get to reply before he’s guiding you backwards, slow but certain, until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you fall onto it with a soft bounce, a quiet laugh slipping out of you.

he follows instantly, climbing over you, one knee pressing into the mattress beside your thigh, hands braced on either side of you for a moment like he’s giving you space to change your mind.

you don’t.

you reach up instead, tugging him down by the collar.

“you’ve got me,” he mutters, but he’s smiling as he kisses you again.

it’s easy to melt into it, it always is with him. there’s something about the way he moves, a little unsure but so earnest, like every time still matters just as much as the first.

and maybe it does.

he was your first everything. and somehow it still feels new, every single time.

your hand drifts up into his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands, and he exhales quietly at that, pressing a bit closer without thinking.

“mhm,” you whisper after a moment, pulling back just enough to look at him.

“everything alright?” he asks

“are your parents home?”

he nods, completely unbothered. “yeah.”

you blink at him.

“doesn’t matter though,” he cuts in, like it’s obvious, brushing his nose lightly against yours. “they’re asleep, they’ve never come in here anyway.”

you roll your eyes, though there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “you’re unbelievable.”

“what?” he murmurs, feigning innocence. “m’being quiet, aren’t i?”

“you’re not,” you whisper, laughing softly.

“alright, fair,” he admits, grin widening a touch. “but still. we’ll be fine.”

you shake your head, but your hand slides back to his cheek, pulling him in again anyway.

“reckless,” you mumble against his lips.

“only a bit,” he replies.

he kisses you again, one hand slipping from the mattress to your side, thumb tracing absent little patterns through the fabric of the zip-up.

“are you- ” he asks quietly after a moment, just barely pulling back, eyes flicking over your face, “do you want this, though? we don’t have to, i mean,” he stumbles over his words, “we could just chill, i s’pose.”

you cup his face, “i want this. all the time. forever.”

he studies you for a second, like he’s making sure, then breaks out in a chuckle. “perfect.”

and then his mouth is back on yours.

he doesn’t rush it.

that’s the thing you notice, every time, even when everything starts to feel a bit breathless, a bit too warm, like it’s slipping out of your controlc ross never quite rushes you.

your hands slide up into his hair again, fingers curling slightly, and he exhales into your mouth at that before kissing you deeper.

it gets messy after a moment. not clumsy, just… real. a little uncoordinated at first, noses bumping faintly, breath mixing, lips parting and finding each other again until it settles into something that fits.

something that’s yours.

you feel it in your chest, in your stomach, that ridiculous, overwhelming liking of him. it’s almost embarrassing how much. the way your heart kicks up every time he makes a small sound, every time his hand tightens just slightly at your side.

the kiss is messy and intoxicating. his lips are soft despite the messiness of the kiss, his tongue attempting to part your mouth more by sliding across your bottom lip.

you allow him, his tongue entering your mouth and dancing with your own.

you tug at his hair again.

“you’re-“ he starts, barely pulling back, voice uneven. “you do that on purpose, yeah?”

you blink, dazed. “do what?”

he huffs a quiet laugh, forehead dropping briefly to yours. “that. all of it.”

you smile a little, breathless. “maybe.”

“right,” he mutters, but he’s grinning before he kisses you again.

his hand shifts, sliding a bit more securely at your waist, pulling you closer without really thinking about it. you can feel him now, the warmth of him, the way his body presses into yours like he can’t quite help it.

it makes your breath hitch.

he notices that too.

he always notices.

his hips are shifting just a fraction closer, pressing into you.

it’s subtle. barely anything.

but you feel it.

and it sends this warm, fluttery feeling straight through you, making your stomach twist in a way you’re still not entirely used to, even with him.

you pull back just a tiny bit, both of you a little breathless now, lips parted, foreheads nearly touching.

his cheeks are flushed. properly flushed. lips a bit swollen, eyes softer than usual, a little unfocused as he looks at you.

you think, not for the first time, that he’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

it’s ridiculous.

“you’re so handsome,” you whisper, a small smile tugging at your mouth.

he lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head just slightly. he’s awkward anytime you compliment him but you want him to get used to it.

“really handsome,” you say again.

he just stares at you before his hand comes up to your face and his thumb brushes over your cheek.

“look at you, though,” he says trying to change that subject, “you should see yourself right now with your cheeks all blushed.”

you slap his shoulder playfully.

then his eyes flick down to the zip-up you’re wearing. his.

“are you warm enough now,” he murmurs, “so i can take this off?”

you nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “yes.”

he doesn’t hesitate and reaches for the zipper, pulling it down.

once it’s open, he pushes it off your shoulders, letting it fall away before tossing it somewhere beside the bed without looking.

his hands hover for a second after, like he’s deciding what to do next.

you can see the shift, the way he gets a bit impatient with himself.

“hang on,” he mutters quietly, more to himself than to you, fingers catching the hem of your top.

he tries, at first, to take it off properly, tugging it up slightly but then he huffs a soft breath, a bit of a grin breaking through.

“this is— right, no.”

and he just pulls it over your head in one go.

you let out a small laugh at that, hair a bit messy now as it falls back into place, and he pauses for a second when he sees you in your white bra.

“you’re—” he starts, then stops, shaking his head slightly like he’s lost the words. “is that new?”

your cheeks warm under his gaze.

“it is” you respond, shocked that he even noticed, “bought it for you.”

“thank you, darling,” he smiles, “i love it, it’s gorgeous.”

it makes your stomach flip.

his hands come back to you, gripping your hips and smashing his lips onto you.

you shift slightly under him, nerves and warmth mixing in a way that makes it hard to sit still.

your fingers move to the button of your jeans, hesitating only for a second before you undo them, the small sound loud in the quiet room.

his eyes drop again, following the movement, and you swear you feel the way his breath catches.

“yeah?” he murmurs.

you don’t answer properly, just shift your hips a little, enough for him to understand.

he does.

“alright,” he says quietly, hands moving to your waist again, fingers brushing yours for a second before taking over.

he tugs gently at the fabric as he starts to pull them down. when it’s down to your ankles you kick your jeans off the rest of the way.

your panties are matching your bra and you bite your lip waiting for his reaction. ross just takes this moment to look and not touch. you start to shrink under his gaze, covering yourself up with your hands.

“hey,” he takes your hands into his, “don’t do that, you’re mad beautiful.”

he presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

you pull him back down into another kiss. his hand presses into the mattress beside your head while the other stays at your waist, thumb moving in slow, absent strokes.

your hands don’t stay still for long.

they slip between you, fingers brushing the hem of his shirt before you push it up.

he lets out a soft breath against your mouth, lifting slightly to help you, arms raising so you can pull it over his head properly.

it gets caught for a second and you both laugh, quiet and breathless, before it finally comes free and lands somewhere on the floor.

and then you’re looking at him.

your hands come up without thinking, resting against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palms, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

his cheeks flush a bit at your gawking, and he ducks his head slightly, pressing a quick kiss to your mouth like he’s trying to hide it.

you laugh quietly, fingers still tracing light patterns against him, like you’re trying to memorise it.

he stills for a second under your touch, “can i touch you?”

you nod, almost immediately. “yes. please.”

he exhales like he didn’t realise he was holding it.

his hand slides down slowly, feeling his way, fingertips light as they trail along your side, your hip, until they rest there for a second.

his finger ghost over your panties.

“y’look—” he starts, then stops, shaking his head faintly like he can’t quite get it right.

you tilt your head. “what?”

he huffs a small, nervous laugh, eyes flicking over you again. “just… gorgeous. honestly. like an angel in all white.”

your smile softens.

“bit unfair, really,” he adds under his breath.

you laugh quietly, reaching up to brush your fingers along his jaw. “you’re one to talk.”

he rolls his eyes a little, but there’s a smile there, and it lingers as his hand shifts again. finger sliding over the top and under it as he rubs at your wetness.

you lean into him without thinking, breath catching slightly, and he notices immediately.

“christ, you’re wet,” he says.

“always cause of you,” you whisper back.

that earns you another kiss.

he breaks contact from you body by kneeling and then standing up, “just need to get comfortable.”

and you nod, watching as he unzips his pants and slides them off, leaving his perfect body in just black boxers. he’s hard, you can see it clearly.

he makes you absolutely giddy.

“alright,” he groans as he lowers himself on top of you again, “m’gonna take this off, alright?”

he fidgets with the waistband of your panties and you’re already encouraging him by nodding a couple of times. “please do.”

“i’ve got you, love,” he says, pulling them down.

not long after he’s raising his hand to his mouth, sticking two fingers on his tongue and wetting them enough to simulate lube so you're not in any pain.

it's obscene, and you practically gush wetness just seeing it, so it's a bit redundant, but you'll never tell him that. his fingers come out warm and wet and gently worm their way between your legs.

“you’re so perfect,” he says, “my girl.

he always starts with one finger and when it slides in like nothing he'll crack a little smirk and tease you about how ready you are for him. presses a kiss against the side of your mouth and adds his second finger which fills you out more, stretches you a little, makes you buck your hips and let out a long, sharp sigh as you get used to the feeling.

"okay?" he murmurs, his dark eyes glancing up at you for reassurance.

"yeah," you hiss, "yeah, ross that feels- aagh, you feel so good. your fingers are so thick."

they’re slick with his spit that's starting to blend with the beginnings of your wetness, quickly smearing off of his fingers and onto your thighs if you're clenching them.

“keep them open, love,” encourages you, “just want to make you feel good.”

he’s good at fingering you, too. not too heavy on one technique, not too skimpy on the other, he's good at pumping in and out while also brushing your clit but not overstimulating it. not a huge scissoring-motion kinda guy, but he'll test your limits a few times, see if he can stretch your walls any further or if you're clamping down around his fingers already.

he's more likely to curl his fingers, just barely bend them so that they mold perfectly to the space they're occupying and they always press and slot themselves perfectly into that tight spot that makes your pussy clench around them.

“oh fuck,” you sigh, letting your head fall back, “you’re so good, fuck.”

and the light brushing against your clit drives you crazy. you're creaming around his fingers every time.

you're honestly embarrassed at how fast you cum when he's fingering you, but he's just so damn good at it that you can't help yourself.

you’re so close, with his mouth sucking on your neck and sighing and his fingers pumping in and out.

“you sound so pretty,” he groans against your neck, “can you- does it feel good enough?”

you don’t know how he can ask that with you arching your back and writhing around.

you nod, “mhm, fuck. so good, just don’t stop,” you pant.

“i won’t,” he’s gentle with his kisses on the hickey he just created, “won’t stop.”

and the perfect thing about ross is that he doesn’t change the pace once you tell him your close. he somehow manages to slide his fingers inside even deeper until you’re right there.

“oh,” you moan into his neck, “m’close.”

“yeah?” he asks with a shimmer in his eyes, “fuck, angel.”

he can’t help but grind his lower half against your leg. he does it twice and then stops himself, either because it feels too good or because he’d rather focus on your pleasure.

he doesn’t just brush your clit every now and then but puts more pressure on it until your legs shake around his hand.

“fuck,” you whine.

“yeah, come for me, darling,” he kisses your cheek sweetly, “let me feel you.”

it crashes over you. you clench around him, your eyes flutter close and you moan his name so loud, you can’t even care about the volume.

“you’re so hot,” ross says, slowing his fingers until he removes them, “y’look well gorgeous when you come.”

"hey," he whispers, his voice a low rasp as he crawls up the bed to you, bracing himself on his forearms as he hovers above your spent body. "you alright?"

you nod, dazed, your chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. "yeah," you murmur, smiling faintly. "i‘m... wow."

he grins softly, brushing your hair back from your damp forehead, “you were so fuckin' good," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "always are."

he licks his fingers clean before wiping them on the sheets.

he cups your jaw, fingers gentle but firm, and pulls you into a kiss. this one is slower, deeper, soaked with something heavier than need. you can taste yourself on his tongue, the sharp edge mixing with the familiar heat of his mouth. it makes you dizzy. you press closer, letting the kiss grow urgent, messy. his hands slide into your hair, holding you there, his breath stuttering each time your lips part and find each other again.

“i want you,” you mumble.

“i want you too, love,” he says.

he kneels over you again and pulls his boxers down all the way, his erection pressing against his stomach.

he then reaches behind your back and opens your bra, “let me see all of you.”

you nod, “come here.”

your hand moves down between you, fingers grazing the line of his stomach. his muscles twitch beneath your touch, tightening as you trail lower. your knuckles brush the coarse hair at the base of him before wrapping your hand around his cock.

he’s hot and heavy in your palm, the skin silky-smooth over the hard length of him. he jerks slightly when you touch him, hips bucking. a broken moan tears from his throat, raw and immediate.

"fuck," he gasps, his head falling back, eyes fluttering shut.

you shift again, propping yourself up so you can kiss his neck, your lips dragging slowly along the curve of it. his skin tastes like sweat and heat, and you leave open, sloppy kisses there, letting your teeth scrape gently across the sensitive spot beneath his jaw.

your hand strokes him steadily, your grip firm but familiar. you know exactly how he likes it. you twist your wrist at the top, thumb brushing over the head, spreading the precum that's already beading there.

the slick sound of it fills the space between his breathless gasps.

he grips the sheets underneath him, his knuckles white, and bucks into your hand again, chasing every motion like he's desperate for more. his mouth is open, his breathing ragged, every sound that escapes him winding tight in your belly.

you drag your tongue along his throat, feel the vibration of the moan he swallows, and press a kiss just below his ear as you whisper, "you look so good like this."

his response is a shudder, his whole body tightening beneath you, as if your voice alone undoes him.

you pull back for a moment, letting your hand take over, stroking him slow and steady as you look up at him. his head is struggling to hold up, his chest rising and falling fast now, flushed down to the collarbones. he’s falling apart, piece by piece, and you're the only one who gets to see it like this.

his hand cups the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek as his hips give the smallest, involuntary push into your touch.

"you have to stop," he murmurs, the words strained and hoarse. "if you don't stop, i’m gonna cum."

"not yet," you whisper. "wanna feel you inside me."

his gaze drops to you, dark and glassy, pupils blown so wide there's hardly any color left. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, chest heaving like he's trying to pull himself back from the edge just long enough to make it to you. "me too" he breathes, the sound barely there.

"perfect," you stare back at him.

"right then, love," he says quietly, leaning over you to open the bedside drawer to pull a condom out.

“let me,” you take it from his hand, open it and pull it out.

you roll the condom on him and squeeze his tip to tease him, which makes him jerk again.

“come here,” he cups your face and kisses you.

his hands grip your thighs, spreading your legs as he positions himself between them. his hair hangs over his forehead, his skin still glistening with sweat, and the sight of him like this, flushed, hungry, and completely focused on you, fuck.

"you ready?" he asks, his voice low, the words barely audible over the sound of your own heavy breathing.

"yeah." you whisper, your hands finding his shoulders again, pulling him closer. "god, yes. please."

ross doesn’t need any more encouragement. with a soft groan, he lines himself up, his fingers gripping your thighs tighter as he pushes into you, slow at first, letting you feel him.

"fuck." he breathes, his head dropping to your shoulder as he begins to move inside you, his body pressing into yours with a steady rhythm. "you feel so fucking good.."

ross moans as he sinks deeper into you, his breath hot against your neck, and you can’t help but moan in return. the rhythm of his thrusts start slow, his hips driving into yours with this incredible mixture of urgency and control. each movement feels perfect, his cock filling you in a way that makes you feel dizzy with pleasure, like your body is made for this, for him.

"fuck, ross" you gasp, arching up into him, your hands gripping his back, fingers digging into his skin.

you can feel the heat radiating off his body, his muscles flexing beneath your touch as he moves, and every time he hits that sweet spot, your body responds in kind, hips lifting to meet his thrusts.

he groans in response. "so–so fuckin' good." his words are broken by the effort of his thrusts, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both gasp for air.

"ross, you’re fucking incredible," you manage to say between moans, your voice breathless, but there is no denying how real the compliment is. he feels amazing. he always does.

ross laughs softly, his voice shaky, but you can feel the smile against your skin. "m’glad you feel good, love. cause i feel really fucking good.”

"i am." you breathe, your nails scratching lightly down his back. "feeling perfect.”

"i love you," he says, his breath hitching as he thrust into you harder, a little more desperate now. his hands slide up your sides, gripping your hips, pulling you closer, deeper. "fuck—you're perfect."

“i love you,” you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in even closer, wanting him as deep as he could go.

"keep going." you whisper, voice barely more than a breathy moan. "just like that."

"yeah?" he asks, his pace quickening slightly, his hips snapping forward with a new intensity. he grips you tighter.

you nod, biting your lip to stifle a louder moan.

"don’t stop."

"fuck- i’m not stopping." he groans, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "i’m not stopping-“

his thrusts get more erratic, driven by pure need. he is close, and you can feel it in the way his body moves, in the way his grip tightens on you even more, in the way his moans become louder and more frequent.

"ross, i’m—" you gasp. your whole body is coiled with pleasure.

"fuck, i know," he murmurs, his voice almost lost in his moans. "me too..." his hips snap forward one last time, deep and hard, and the sensation sends you spiralling over the edge.

ross groans, his breath ragged and uneven as he continues thrusting his hips.

"shit-" he mutters, “i’m gonna-“

his hips buck forward and he comes, thick spurts painting the inside of the condom.

"fuck me," he breathes, his voice shaky. your hearts are racing.

you give him a lazy, satisfied smile, “jesus.”

"yeah," he snorts, still coming down from the high, his fingers brushing gently over your thigh.

you grin, “i can never get enough of that.”

ross lets out a weak laugh, dropping his head against your shoulder, still trying to catch his breath. "me neither, darling," he mumbles, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone as he pulls out of you with a groan. he slides the condom off of him and wraps it in tissues so he doesn’t have to get up now.

ross collapses against you, his body still trembling slightly. he letz out a deep breath, his chest pressing against yours as he nestles into the curve of your neck, his hair sticking to your skin.

you’re brushing a hand through his messy, sweat-dampened hair. “we need to get cleaned up.”

he’s nuzzling closer to you without moving an inch. "don’t care." he mumbles, his voice low and sleepy, as if the effort of saying those two words was almost too much.

you chuckle, lightly stroking his back. "that’s gross."

"yeah, yeah." he murmurs, half-asleep already, "we’ve had worse."

you pause for a moment, letting the quiet settle between you.

“i really fucking love you, darling,” he whispers into your neck.