{Delilah and George have established rules and sexual things that they would like/not like within their relationship. Therefore, in this chapter consent is/was given even if I don't write it :))
Song for this chapter:
At Last — Etta James}
•••
Warmth.
Light.
Clear breaths.
Delilah felt the sheets underneath her skin, her bare, naked skin. Her hair was pressed against her neck, cheeks, and her sweaty forehead.
Her hands were holding tightly onto— it felt like bone— no, skin over bone— shoulders.
Tense, muscular shoulders.
Her lips were parted as heavy breaths came out, filling the limited space between her and the something that was right in front of her face.
She opened her eyes slowly, and they met the familiar chestnut eyes she loved so much.
His flushed cheeks.
His freckles speckled perfectly, as usual.
His lips parted, too, and blood rushed.
His eyebrows furrowed in. . . confusion?
No, furrowed in pleasure.
Him.
George.
That's when she realized he wasn't just on top of her, he was in her.
Thrusting.
Slowly and sensually.
Her red nails dug into his skin, leaving crescent shaped marks. They kept their eyes connected as Delilah felt him slowly moving in and out of her.
Her legs were wrapped around his waist, keeping his body close to hers. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, their burning skin meshing together like lava.
The sun was shining through his curtains, creating golden rays onto his sun kissed skin. His eyes were pools of honey, and they stared down on her.
"I love you, princess," he whispered, his back muscles flexing as he thrusted again and again.
He wasn't pounding into her, per say.
Just. . . Moving in and out slowly.
Delilah went to say she loved him back, but she couldn't. All that came out were her moans, and her ragged breaths.
George smirked, "What? Can't say it back?"
He was mocking her, she knew it, but it didn't matter. Her lips still couldn't form the words.
She felt his tip hitting her deepest point over and over and over again.
She didn't know why she couldn't speak. But she didn't care if she could or not. She just cared that he was with her.
She ran one hand shakily through his hair, pushing it back for it to just flop back down.
"I-I love you, too," she finally mumbled, her heels digging into George's sides.
He kissed her lips for the first time— was it the first? And she melted more at his touch.
His lips fit hers like a puzzle, despite the cliché, there was no other way to describe it. They were meant to kiss each other's lips.
Right?
He tasted like candy, like always, but like his own personal candy.
He tasted like George.
YOU ARE READING
game night | g. weasley
Fanfiction☆ it all started with just a simple game night. but delilah wouldn't change a single thing. she loves him with everything she has, and he loves her just as much. that's all that matters to them now. with bumpy roads comes amazing destinations, an...
