#sealedfcte

        ( 💔 --- @sealedfcte )     ⋅ ⋅ ⋅    they've been dancing for long enough that lyonel can scarcely identify where he ends and they begin. his body against their back, one hand on their hip and the other flat along their waistband. mouth laying kisses against the part of their collarbone peeking from their neckline before drifting north. "c'mon," voice is hoarse--- a spotting of arousal accentuating his low tone. "the night shouldn't end here." by the time lyonel's finished his words his lips are brushing against their ear, teeth brushing along their earlobe.

" i keep thinking about what would've happened if I'd stayed. "

brynn had perfected the art of being difficult—sharp tongue, narrowed eyes, all bite with no apology—and tonight was no different as she leaned against the bar, blonde hair spilling over her shoulder like she owned the place. he was there again, annoyingly consistent, all easy smiles and stupid charm that should’ve worn thin by now. it didn’t. worse, it lingered. “you ever get tired of following me around, or is this like… a hobby?” she muttered, glancing up at him, unimpressed on the surface—but she didn’t move away when he stepped closer, didn’t shut it down, not really. because the truth sat heavy and quiet beneath the attitude: she liked the way he didn’t back off. liked it a little too much.

' ah , come on — give it back , i wasn't finished reading ! ' acton chuckles at the other's dismay , snatching back the laptop to continue to read off the extensive list of very specific videos — ' okay where was i ? i've done that , oh that's new — done , done— oh now that . . . that's kinky . wow , who knew you had it in you , ollie !? ' / @sealedfcte , based

“   i   can   make   you   forget   all   about   him.   if   you   want.   ”

the space between his ears hums loudly, mimicking the bass sounds in the bar he’d just left overlaid with frantic rambling. above the noise, a voice that isn’t alex’s own. it’s softer, though thick with emotion, and familiar, like a homing beacon. he trips over himself fumbling out of the rideshare, tosses a frazzled thank you over his shoulder before traipsing the perilous path to the door. it’s been weeks. as in, alex has had weeks to practice what he’d say when he finally found the balls to show up on oliver’s stoop. but when alex raps his knuckles against the door, his head is still swimming from one too many drinks, and any script he might’ve had a few hours ago is lost to the wind. still, alex knocks, louder now. he must look deranged, sweaty and wired, a belated realization behind his wild eyes. when the door finally gives way under his incessancy, the first thing alex can manage is, “i need to talk to you.” 

          “  first  he  bailed  on  your  birthday  and  now  he's  doing  it  again  ?  i  just…  i  guess  i  don't  get  it.  why  are  you  still  with  him  ?  ”