#spicymoves

behind eyelids, finley is already dreaming about cassie. he always dreams about cassie. mostly innocent settings: colorful dreamscapes of them holding onto each other as they crossed state lines together, worrying about nothing and no one. at times, however, dirtier thoughts infiltrate the soft spaces of fin's brain, showing him images of heavy and heated nights together with the woman he loved. eyes move behind lids as his mind presents a picturesque moment. he can't help that he's growing within his sweatpants, nor can he, at first, distinguish the touch that slides beneath them from dreamworld and reality. only when there is a breath against his ear do eyes flutter open, hips bucking up involuntarily into a hand that is, in fact, in his pants. 'don't gotta worry about that, sweetheart - i was thinkin' about you before i even woke up,' breath shutters a bit as her hand begins to work against him, head turning to bury face in her neck, sucking at the skin their to leave a bruise.

( sms → cass. )   and yet i haven’t gotten a picture yet ( sms → cass. )   do i have to work for it or what ( sms → cass. )   cause i will     @spicymoves.

             sharp inhale is taken the further her hand runs up the inner length of finley’s thigh, closer to the seam of his jeans, the belt that was waiting to be unbuckled. forehead leans against cassie’s for moment, allowing himself to give a shaky exhale before he pulls away. eyes are half lidded as they meet hers, tongue flitting out to wet his lips.  ‘ by you? any day, any time, darlin’. but i’ve been really trying t’keep my hands off you, and you’re makin’ that kind’ve hard, ’  and that wasn’t the only thing. hands lift to place on either side of cassie’s neck, warm against his palms, tips of fingers finding their way into her hair.  ‘ how am i supposed t’work when you’re looking at me like that? ’     @spicymoves.