Margartia Karapanou, tr. by Karen Emmerich, from Rien ne va plus

straddling his thighs with chests pressed against each other as his hands rest against your back. touching every possible surface, slipping under your shirt and playfully pulling at the elastic of your bra strap. you nuzzle your face against his chin and pepper tiny kisses along his jawline. he giggles from your ticklish actions, but doesn’t pull away. you flick your tongue over his soft flesh and he pinches at your side. you squirm, but he tightens his grip and holds you to him. your ribs knock against his and you pull your face back. staring deep into his eyes as he looks in yours. whirlpools. your noses brush at a centimeter apart. he tilts his head inquisitively. you take the opportunity to lean forward and press your lips together. just a gentle touch at the corner of his mouth before you move closer. breathing directly into his throat as he beckons you in. your lips wrap around his and push with gentle pressure. slotting plump between his desperate wanting. he immediately sucks and nips at your bottom lip. your body adjusts above him, lifting onto your palms to angle yourself better. his hand slides down to your waist and steadies you with a hand at hip. thumb rubbing soothing circles and dipping experimentally beneath the hem of your pants. your free hand travels up and cups the side of his face, pleading not to move. his body arches automatically off the bed to be closer to you and your breath halts from the increased contact. stomach filling with the most aggressive lovesick butterflies. your fingers tighten against his cheek, his eyes roll back in his head in bliss. you kiss and kiss and kiss until breathless. each burying yourselves in the other, gasping. humidity growing between helpless bodies. clawing at pieces of heaven.