𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗔 𝗠𝗢𝗩𝗜𝗘 | 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒉 𝑪𝒐𝒉𝒆𝒏

( 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐢 )

𝙄 𝘼𝙈 𝙊𝙉𝙇𝙔 𝘼𝙎 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙂
𝘼𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙐𝙏𝙀 𝙄𝙎

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄.
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i. whole

He knew it was wrong. So. Very. Wrong. But he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't stop has hand from clogging the piece of paper Marcus Miller had so carelessly discarded. It's a different kind of wrong to read something so personal, so thrilling, so revolting that you see the sun and the stars and everything in between and it to be directed to someone else, someone very clearly uninterested.
The piece of paper in question was crumbled and torn and so disgusting discarded, it almost made him question why he picked it in the first place, but a 15 year old Seth Cohen was very much in love with the words scribbled within it. He was in love with the feeling they gave him to his very core, he was in love with the sloppiness of the handwriting, he was in love with the skin- deep desire it arose.
Kisses dream of lips like yours, it titled— and it was hard to believe someone who was in his class, his age could combine simple words in a formation so beautiful that all the beautiful things would be jealous. The snow. The rain. The sky.

Kisses dream of lips like yours, Marcus

Looking at you makes me stupid. I get obsessed with the smallest things. How you look while examining your fingernails. When you stretch, the curve of your neck. The slip of your spine. How wonderful. How enchanting. You look up. Wrinkle your nose. "Why are you staring?" I get wordless. All tangled heat and longing. I wanna build a universe where we never get out of bed. I wanna crawl into your arms like ivy, catch your laughter from the air and spin it into a blanket. You make me feel like I'm moss on a tree which is to say you make me feel like I'm home and where I'm supposed to be. Around you I trap sunlight. I want to tell you the inside of the forest you planted in me. Open my mouth. "You're a nerd." You say and yours lips make me think dirty thoughts, like keeping them apart— and i imagine you wanting me. Against the wall, hands pinned above my head. Bare. "You're my art." You whisper while biting your lip. How do you do that. Make me drip without a touch. On your knees, I watch you fall. "Spread." You demand. I love how you throw my leg over your shoulder. How your face sinks deep between my thighs. How your tongue strokes until it drowns. Don't stop. Please, make me come to life. My lips dance around your name. Marcus. Marcus. Marcus. You orchestrate every throb to play shivers down my spine. The way you allow your fingers to glide over these goosebumps, it gives my lungs a reason to breathe.
When I look up, you're laughing with your friends and I stare back at my blank notebook again. I'd be lying if i said you a make me speechless. The truth is you make my tongue so weak it forgets what language to speak in. Make me wet. Make me moan. Make me yours. I want to leave you a mess a tangled breathless glowing body to run my fingertips up and over your hips down every single ridge of your spine and watch the constellation dance in their wake I want to love you until you burn so brightly I can no longer touch your skin and i am left laying in your star field bathing in the moonlight sleeping in your afterglow. I want you. Your bones. Your body heat. The bite marks your teeth leave. To see how bad and beautiful those eyes look beneath me.
What if I were to tell you that I would happily find a home in your soul, would you still chase desires of the flesh or at last give in to a passion that you will never be able to see, taste or hold? Will you still fuck me?

Seth reads the love letter in bed, stretched out under the sheets with one hand between his legs.

Oh, the things he'd do to love her.

𝙄 𝘼𝙈 𝙊𝙉𝙇𝙔 𝘼𝙎 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙂
𝘼𝙎 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙐𝙏𝙀 𝙄𝙎

˚ ✰ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄.
season one — ??
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