| blue hour is the short period of time before sunrise or after sunset when the sun is just below the horizon. indirect sunlight is evenly diffused and takes on a blue shade |
traveling the world as greta van fleet's touring photographer seemed like...
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Sam hushed you with a kiss, his fingers cradling your cheeks gently as he pushed his body into yours. "Who says it has to end?" he murmured against your lips, and you let out another breathy giggle. He swallowed the sound up with his lips, and you whined when he squeezed your jaw a little tighter in his grasp.
The doorknob was digging into your back uncomfortably, but all that you could focus on was the way his fingers dug into the skin of your cheeks, pouting your lips against his own as he kissed you hungrily. It was sloppy, both of you breathing heavily from running across the hotel, and chlorinated water was dripping out of your still soaked hair and running into your eyes. You gasped when his hips rutted into your abdomen, jolting your body harder against the door as he showed you exactly how much he wanted you.
"Fuck," you gasped, and you weren't entirely sure which task felt more pertinent. One hand fumbled behind you to scan your keycard, blindly slapping the flimsy plastic card all around the doorknob and trying to open it desperately. The other clasped the back of his neck, pulling him further into you as you eagerly parted your lips for him.
He licked into your mouth lazily, working his tongue along the back of your teeth as he rutted his hips against your lower abdomen over and over again. Each thrust rammed your body into the doorknob, but the sound of your pained whines only seemed to spur him on. Your hands were shaking when you finally managed to turn the knob, barely hearing the subtle click of the lock as it unlatched.
Shoving him off of you roughly, you whirled around to rip the door open like a madwoman. You were absolutely feral with need, and you didn't even bother to hide the moan that slipped from your lips when he immediately wrapped around you from behind, grinding his erection into your clothed ass. He was practically running you over as you both raced to the bed in the center of the room.
You grunted when he all but tackled you onto the mattress, forcing you face down into the covers as he clambered over you and straddled the backs of your thighs. Your legs were still hanging off the bed from your knees down, and you toed off your shoes whilst he began to really roll his hips into your ass. Sam was groaning already, one hand pressed roughly into the back of your head to keep you down while the other held your hips exactly where he wanted them.
Straining against his hold, you pleaded, "Please, Sammy, I want you." His hand pressed harder into the back of your head at your words, and you let out a noise of frustration, "Don't you want me?"
That seemed to do the trick. He released his hold at once, sitting back with wild eyes as you scrambled out from under him before climbing to your knees to face him head-on. "Take off your clothes." he commanded, and you bit your lip in hesitation when you watched his hand fall to the bulge straining against his tight pants. The fact that they were still damp from pulling dry fabric onto a soaking body only made the form of his sex more visible to you, and you were eager to really see it.
He gripped himself tightly through the material, and you whined. "Take off your clothes, birdie." he urged, "I can't give you what you want if you don't."
