#gp

The warm contact feels a lot warmer in the moment, sending shivers down your body that are most definitely not from any sort of cold.

The dark, serenity of the night outside only makes Billie seem more eclipsing, blinding every other thought of yours as your back arches into her grasp.

“Relax, baby…” she murmurs, breath fanning your neck as whines free themselves. “I've got you.”

Your lips connect once more, but not before another choked sound. Your heart stutters in your chest as her tongue sweeps between you. The kiss breaks as Billie eases the loose-fitted shirt up and over your head.

“Please,” you manage, fingers curling into the fabric of her jersey she's yet to take off since the afternoon. You urge her closer, one leg wrapping around the back of hers to close the distance further. The fabric between you is but an obstacle, something you need gone immediately.

You fiddle with her shirt, pulling the hem over her head and tossing it aside without a care in the world. You only care about her. The way she looks in the dark, moonlight highlighting the curves of her pale skin, scaling over her breasts and the dips of her toned abdomen.

She hesitates a little under the deep gaze, tension meeting her body. Noticing the self-consciousness, you drag a hand over her abs, thumb brushing the hard muscle. “You're fucking gorgeous,” you breathe.

She weakens in the reverent contact, head dropping onto your shoulder. You bring a palm to her back, fingers tracing the curve of her spine, nails dragging lightly over skin.

You swallow hard when you feel the stiffness press against your thigh. “Oh, Bil…” you coo, hands shifting to find purchase at the dip of her waist.

Billie, in response, only hides her face further in the crook of your neck. “M’sorry,” she mumbles, heat rushing up her neck and blooming on her cheeks. “Can't help it.”

“C'mere, honey,” you hum, hand already betraying your self-control and instead palming the bulge outlining in her pants. A helpless groan escapes the ravenette despite her attempt to hold back. Pressing against you further, the erection begins to ache against her pants.

“Can I?” you whisper in the desolate void of the night, fingers sliding onto the zipper of her pants like clockwork.

“Yeah—yes,” she returns, voice softer but tremendously more desperate. Your fingers pull the zipper down with diligence, each tooth unlocking from the others until you can slide the thick fabric's barrier off.

The tented boxers follow, leaving Billie exposed and flushed in your arms. With her face pressed against your neck, she releases a helpless sound when pressure meets her appendage.

Your warm hand wraps around the girth, pumping it slowly, up and down. Her own hand fists into the tangled sheets beneath you, tiny grunts spilling as she's overrun with pleasure.

“Oh—fuck, baby,” she mutters, choking on words as she grows harder in the torturous pace of your palm, filling out instantaneously.

You speed your hand, the repetitive motion leading a tightness to form in her southern regions. Her groans grow louder, unrestrained in the otherwise silence of the bedroom. Your thumb circles her tip, coating the rest of her length in her preamble as more leaks.

“I—I can't—ngh—holy shit,” she nearly sobs, tears stinging the corners of her eyes at the overwhelming feeling beginning to intensify.

You, with your ministrations unrelenting and never losing rhythm, simply lift the ravenette's chin to meet her glassy gaze. “You can, love. Look at me.” The command is gentle, but it hits her right in the core. Like second nature, her tear-rimmed eyes flutter open, eyebrows pulled tight together in focus and pleasure.

Her hips rut into your moving hand, approaching her end in jolts and hoarse whimpers. “M'gonna—gonna—oh, fuck,” she groans, her bottom lip sliding between her teeth in order to hold herself back, biting hard enough to draw blood.

“Let go, darling. Come for me,” you purr, canine teeth grazing the damp skin of the ravenette. The playful pressure of the nibble sends her over the edge, her precipice crashing over her like a tidal wave.

A guttural groan sprouts from her lips, reaching down to your own core. She soaks the sheets, the hand wrapped around her, and her thighs with the white, hot liquid that spills from the tip in bursts.

She pants softly as she collapses against you, cock softening as your hand moves from it and instead goes to your mouth. You lick at the excess cum that landed on your fingers before wrapping your arms around her.

“You did so well, sweetheart. So perfect f'me,” you murmur, clean hand running through her messy hair as she recovers with shaky, small noises. Her chest heaves against yours, slowing to a steady pace with each passing second. It doesn't take long for sleep to take over, bringing her spent body to an easy slumber.

A feeble “I love you,” falls from her mouth before her eyes flutter shut, body curved into yours habitually.

You place a tiny kiss on her forehead as she drifts off, watching with a sense of pride as her lips twitch upwards into a smile—even in her sleep. With that, your own eyelids grow heavy and you let drowsiness take you over as well, limbs tangled with hers.