haely

your legs are tucked beneath you, facing him, and he’s sprawled out with one arm behind your head, thumb occasionally brushing your shoulder. he smells like his shampoo and that spicy cologne he only wears when he’s trying to act like it’s nothing — like he doesn’t want to drive you crazy.

you don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about anymore. something stupid. probably some show or someone’s post. but your words slow down when he looks at you, and you swear he knows it.

his eyes flicker down to your lips once, quick, but not quick enough to miss. your breath catches just slightly, and you see the way his mouth twitches like he’s amused. like he’s so sure you’re not going to do anything about it.

he leans in first, not all the way. just close enough that you can feel his breath when he murmurs, “you’re staring.”

you say, “you started it,” but your voice is already lower, weaker, like your body gave you away before you could lie. his eyes are heavy-lidded and slow when they trail from your mouth to your eyes and back again. then he tilts his head and says, “then I’ll finish it.”

and then he kisses you. it’s hot immediately. no teasing, no sweet warm-up, no gentle press of lips to test the waters.

it’s all tongue and teeth and low breaths catching between the mess of it. his hands are on your face instantly, both palms framing your jaw as his thumbs drag slow along your cheekbones.

he kisses like he’s hungry. like he’s been dying to do this and now that he has you, he’s not going to stop.

you part your lips, letting him slide his tongue into your mouth, and the sound you make is embarrassing but completely involuntary.

his mouth moves against yours like he knows what you need — messy, deep, slow in a way that makes your thighs clench together without meaning to.

his fingers tilt your chin up, holding you exactly where he wants you, and the second you whimper, he groans low in his throat and kisses you harder. riku tastes like mint gum and something sweet, and you’re honestly dizzy from how good he feels.

you grab at his hoodie, bunching it up in your fists like you need something to anchor you, and he laughs into the kiss, lips still moving with yours, like he likes that you’re clinging to him.

like he expected it. one of his hands drops from your cheek to your waist, dragging you closer, pulling you into his lap like you’re weightless.

when you straddle him, your knees digging into the couch cushions, his hands grip your hips immediately and he mutters a breathless, “fuck, finally.”

then he tilts his head the other way and keeps kissing you, deeper this time, slower but with more pressure, more tongue, more everything.

you can’t even breathe right. you don’t want to. your fingers slip into his hair before you realize you’re doing it, and the second you tug just a little, he moans softly into your mouth and you swear it sends a bolt of heat through your entire body.

he shifts beneath you, like he can’t help it, like he’s trying to get even closer somehow, and the way his hips jerk up just slightly — yep. there’s no pretending this is just a kiss anymore. you’re both fully gone.

he pulls away for half a second, just to look at you. his lips are red, a little wet, and he’s breathing hard. his hands stay on your waist, thumbs pressing into your skin through the fabric like he needs to feel you everywhere.

“you’re so pretty like this,” he says, voice low and wrecked, and then he’s kissing you again before you can even react.

this kiss is slower. deeper. he takes his time licking into your mouth, sucking gently on your bottom lip, then pressing his tongue to yours like he means it. like he wants to memorize how you taste.

it’s obscene. your hands are sliding under the back of his hoodie now, feeling the warmth of his skin, his spine, the soft give of his waist. he groans when you do it, and his grip tightens like he’s warning himself not to go too far.

but it’s already too far. you know it, he knows it. and neither of you care.

his hands are wandering now — up your sides, down your back, gripping your thighs, like he doesn’t know where to settle. like he wants all of you under his palms at once.

the kisses grow messier again, sloppier, spitier, and when you grind down without thinking, he curses against your lips and pulls you tighter.

“you’re driving me insane,” he whispers, dragging his mouth along your jaw, then back to your lips again like he needs them.

you didn’t answer, you just kiss him harder. you lose track of time. it’s all tongues and teeth and moans that get caught in the back of your throat.

it’s him pulling you closer and closer until your chest is pressed flush against his, every kiss making your skin hotter, every sound making your stomach flip.

your whole body feels like it’s buzzing, your lips are sore, your breath is shaky, your thoughts are gone, and still, he doesn’t stop kissing you.

you’re not even sure how your hands got under his hoodie, how your palms ended up pressing flat against the heat of his bare back, but now you can’t stop touching him either.

his skin is warm and smooth and flexes under your fingers every time he shifts, every time he grips your thighs tighter or adjusts the way you’re straddling him like he’s trying to grind against you but still barely holding himself back.

his tongue pushes deeper into your mouth, slow and deliberate, and he groans again when you meet it with your own. the way he kisses is unrelenting — wet and heated and thick with need, like he’s trying to get drunk off your mouth alone.

like nothing else matters except this. except you and him and the filthy, slick sounds echoing between your lips every time you kiss harder.

he pulls back just an inch, panting, eyes glazed as he runs his tongue across his bottom lip, and his gaze drops to your mouth.

“look at your lips,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “all swollen. you’re gonna ruin me.” you barely get a second to process it before he’s dragging you back in.

his hand slides up your back, under your shirt now, fingers splayed wide as he holds you to him while he kisses you again — slower now, but deeper, like he wants to savor every second of it.

his mouth lingers longer, his tongue strokes yours lazily, and he hums against you when your nails press lightly into his skin. it’s so intimate, so heavy, so hot that you feel your whole body trembling from how badly you want him.

your thighs are shaking slightly with the effort of holding yourself up on his lap, but you don’t dare move. you just keep kissing him back, chasing every brush of his lips like you’ve never wanted anything more.

the couch creaks faintly beneath you with every shift of your bodies, but all you can hear is the wet slide of your mouths, the occasional hitch in his breath, the soft growls of satisfaction when you tug at his hair again and he melts right into you.

“you’re so addictive,” he mumbles, barely pulling away, his lips brushing against yours with each word. “don’t stop. please don’t stop.”

you didn’t. you tilt your head and kiss him deeper, and he groans like it physically hurts to feel this good.

his hands won’t stay still — gripping your hips, trailing up your sides, flattening against your back, tugging you closer every chance he gets like the feel of your body against his still isn’t enough.

he shifts his thighs beneath you, his hips pushing up again, grinding this time, slow and unmistakably intentional, and you gasp right into his mouth.

that’s when he breaks the kiss again, forehead pressing against yours, breath coming out in heavy, hot puffs.

“you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he admits, voice rough and ragged. “just wanted to grab you and kiss you like this — mm, for so long.”

you whimper softly, gripping his shoulders, rocking against him now without thinking. he curses again, pulling you back into another kiss like he’s punishing you for making him feel that honest.

this one’s filthier — his lips part wider, his tongue messier, and he groans into your mouth like he’s completely undone.

you don’t know how much longer you keep going. it feels endless, like time doesn’t exist outside the heat of his mouth and the way his hands won’t stop touching you. and honestly ? you really really don’t care. you never want it to stop.