Run To Me | BAK sequel

18.

Warnings: Sexual content that doesn't surpass R16

One hand securely placed in yours, breathes– low pants against your neck and toffee coloured curls tickled the side of your face. It was definitely the same shampoo you used that one time you borrowed his bathroom and you welcomed the familiar, slightly musky scent. Everything was intimate. He was touching you still, heart beating profusely against your own chest and you weren't afraid of the consequences of the situation. Those consequences included falling deeper into your own feelings and spiralling into a repeat of traumatic events.

There was a dull ache on your hips where he'd rested his hands at one point, one that you didn't think twice about and there had previously been a trail of kisses, soft and loving between your thighs. The blanket, nothing more than a thin sheet now rested around your waist covering the small trail of bite marks along your hip bones.

"How was it?"

Tom's voice was husky but filled with a level of concern that could compete to his voice before you went through with your events. The way he'd asked you repeatedly if this was what you wanted, checking as he touched every part of you and slipped down your body, the way he took care of you with such ease. You had melted into him.

You try to suppress a laugh, swollen lips curling up anyway. "You said that as if I wasn't just moaning your name two minutes ago."

"I just want to make sure that I didn't take it too far, sweet girl," Tom tells you, floating on cloud nine himself as he continues to decorate the area scattered with colourful hickeys with gentle kisses. "Wanna make sure that you're okay and not regretting anything."

"It was perfect, you were perfect." Your hands come up to brush up against his fluffy curls, brushing them away from his forehead with a gentle hum.

He sighs, forehead warm against yours and you feel the remains of a thin layer of sweat. Tom bites the inside of his lip. "You're too good to me."

"C'mere." You practically complain, doing grabby hands and Tom pulls you closer, almost impossibly close. "If anything happens, I have the ring. I–I have it and I'll be wearing it. Remember that"

He halts his movements, the gentle circles he'd previously been rubbing across your arm come to a sudden stop and out of pure shock, Tom tilts his head down so he can look at you, brows furrowed and eyes squinted in confusion.

"You kept the ring?" He asks gently.

You shrug your shoulders as best you can while laying on your side. "Of course I did." Was your reply, sliding your bottom lip between your teeth.

"I thought you wanted to takes things slow?"

You suppress a laugh. "I threw that out the window the second I threw my shirt off."

Memories of your activities flash through your brain, memories you hoped you would get to relive sometime soon. But life was unexpected, so, for now, you relied on memories. If you tried hard enough, you could still feel the mattress next to you caving slightly as he cupped the sheets with a deathly grip, hips thrusting into yours at a steady pace. There were probably dents in the wall from where the headboard had smacked against the plaster in a regular pattern.

You could still feel his wet kisses down your jaw, and reminisce while staring at the not deep– but jagged scratches down the skin of his back. Every single touch sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps to rise on your skin and dear god– Toms' arm had done a fine job at keeping your hips flush against the bedding.

"Knowing that you're wearing that ring would really make things a lot easier." He says, smirking gently against the pillow.

"You're just saying that." You say and yawn, closing your eyes briefly. You swore his bed was the equivalent to a cloud. Soft, plush, and always inviting. "I just want you to know that I'm as serious as you about this and that I'm not going to walk out this time. I'm here for the long run."