#drystal

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

Though in most cases, Crystal’s usually letting him take control and have his way with her (there’s something about him being dominant and taking control that drives her wild—and be more than happy to let him have him way) they both can agree upon their favorite position: her riding him, no matter if he’s laying down or sitting on a chair. 

They love it for separate reasons, of course.

 “Fuck!” Drake gasps, gripping her hips, eyes focused on how her tits bounce. Crystal nods, hands bracing on his stomach, back arched so he can get a better view of her tits themselves. There’s no music this time, only the sound of her squeaking bed, the slick sounds of her riding him, soaking the sheets, and their gasps and moans, trying to be quiet for Amber. But it’s not working. 

Even in the low light, Drake’s struck at how she moves on top of him, how her body flows and he can’t help but slide his hands to her chest, taking a nipple between his fingers, smirking at her gasp, bodies completely melding as one, enjoying the sight of everything before him. After all, how can he not? 

Crystal loves it for the fact at the praises that flow from him lips, as if he’s under a spell as she rides him, taking every last inch, a smirk on her lips. She’s heard it all from him: a goddess, beautiful, you’re perfect, my love, fuck me harder, the most incredible body, I love how you move, fuck, I can’t wait to marry you—and it never gets old, watching him come undone simply because she gets to watch her bouncing tits and pussy take his cock under her terms. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Well, fucking her in her bedroom with a shared wall to Amber certainly wasn’t ideal, nor romantic—Amber’s cheers here and there when Drake made Crystal scream when they’re too drunk to head back to his place—but there’s a level of intimacy that can’t be matched when they’re alone, free to lose themselves to each other.

Candles, music, Drake’s attention to her body—it can’t be matched. Even if they have the kids, the way he pulls her close in the middle of the night, teeth raking against her ear, hand sliding down her body…. Crystal’s legs part automatically and Drake chuckles once his fingers slip under her shorts. “Already wet for me…?”

“Always,” she gasps, clinging to him, two fingers slipping in her center, shorts coming off, the sheets a tangle, catching quiet cries and gasps and begging for more.

He always wants to be intimate with her, always. He can’t waste a second to let her know how he feels—he can’t let another marriage fall to the wayside. There’s only twice in their marriage when they fail this intimacy. Out of the two times, only one of them fails the other.

The first time, there’s no intimacy when they’re desperate for their first child. Drake knows this mirrors his struggles with Jaela—only this time, they know it’s all on him. He doesn’t pray—nor does she—but they do when he’d able to try for children again, hoping that the reversal worked and they can have a child. There’s no intimacy in those moments and Drake hates it, because this is how him and Jaela started their failed family—desperate.

But what else can they do? They both want more than two kids. So, nights that used to be filled with candles and caresses are replaced with anger and fears and tears, sex nothing more than a failing dream—until it works, intimacy back, happier than ever that they can simple be them once again, only this time, more complete than before. Hence why they didn’t bother with luck for Bonnie, not wanting to lose the part of their relationship they savored so much.

The second time they lose intimacy, it’s Drake’s fault. Crystal doesn’t want to look at him when he comes home late at night. In fact, she goes to one of her daughter’s room and tells them Dad’s snoring, that’s why she’s there. They’ll never know the real reason. Judging by the way Drake refuses to tell her why he’s gone and smells like her, Crystal doubts she’ll ever hear the truth herself.

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