you and me and our little domestic mess - drew starkey.
content: filthy talk, domestic fluff, long-term relationship energy, teasing, suggestive language, kisses everywhere, nasty-fun couple vibes.
The door barely clicks shut before Drew’s hands are all over you — one gripping the grocery bags, the other sliding around your waist, fingers pressing into your hip like he’s staking a claim.
"Mm... you thought you were bein' real cute back there, huh?" His voice drops, lazy and rough, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Bending over like that right in front of the fuckin’ bell peppers... Baby, I about lost it."
You huff a laugh, elbowing his ribs half-heartedly. "You're such an idiot."
"Nah," he grins, dropping the bags onto the kitchen island with a thud. "I'm a man barely hangin' on. You can't just wear that little dress out in public and expect me to act right."
You roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away — you love this. Love the way he can’t help himself. Love the way he looks at you like you’re the hottest thing to ever exist.
"Look at you," he murmurs, gaze raking over you slow, heavy, hungry. "Goddamn. Walkin' around the store swingin’ those hips, reachin' up for the pasta like you didn’t know exactly what you were doin’. Torturin' me. You’re cruel, baby."
His hands slide lower, thumbs pressing into the dip of your lower back, fingertips teasing just under the hem of your dress — rough, warm, familiar.
"Drew..." you warn, breath catching when he presses you back against the counter, caging you in with his body.
"What?" His smirk is downright sinful. "Somethin' wrong?"
Your hands flatten against his chest, meaning to push him away, but they stay there — fingers curling into his t-shirt like muscle memory. "The frozen stuff... it’s gonna melt."
"Let it," he growls, mouth crashing into yours before you can protest. It’s messy — teeth knocking, tongues tangling, all heat and wanting and that stupid, giddy laugh you always make when he kisses you like this.
"Nah. Not seriously. Not right now," he mutters against your lips, gripping under your thighs and lifting you onto the counter like you weigh nothing. "You sittin' here all pretty with those legs open? Way more important than some damn frozen peas."
"We bought ice cream," you try, but your voice goes shaky when he bites at your jaw, lips trailing heat down your neck. "It’s your favorite—"
"It’ll survive. You? Mm... not so sure, sweetheart," he hums, fingers sliding higher up your thighs, palms rough against soft skin. "Not when you look like that."
"You’re impossible." Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging when his mouth finds that stupid spot under your ear — the one that never fails to wreck you. "You’re actually disgusting."
"Mmhm. And you fuckin’ love it," he grins against your throat, biting, sucking until he knows he’s leaving a mark. "Love when I talk to you like this. Gets you all squirmy and sweet, pretendin' like it don’t make you wet when I tell you exactly what I wanna do to you."
"Drew." Your name on his lips sounds like sin. Like a prayer.
"What? Just bein' honest, baby." His fingers slide higher — teasing, barely there, driving you insane. "Could’ve fucked you right there in the produce aisle. Right between the zucchinis and the eggplants. Give those old ladies somethin' to really gossip about."
"You’re not real," you laugh, breathless, tugging him back to you, catching his mouth with yours — rough and sweet, like every kiss with him.
"Real as hell, baby," he grins, lips brushing yours. "And you’re stuck with me now. Me and my filthy fuckin’ mouth."
"So tragic," you hum, fingers sneaking under his shirt, dragging over the warm skin of his stomach. "Should’ve read the fine print."
"Yeah... shoulda. But you didn’t. And now this is your life." His grin turns softer, but somehow hungrier. "C'mon. Let’s throw this shit in the fridge real quick... then I’m bendin' you over the couch."
"Or the kitchen counter. Hell, bedroom if you’re feelin' fancy." His hands trail back down your thighs, squeezing. "But that dress? Not makin' it past the next ten minutes. Fair warning, baby."
✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work.© lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.