![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elementof_riskBaby, sweet baby, you're my drug
Come on and let me taste your stuff
Baby, sweet baby, whisper my name
Shoot your love into my vein
Baby, sweet baby, kiss me hard
Make me wonder who's in charge
Baby, sweet baby, I wanna feel your breath
Even though you like to flirt with death
From the first kiss, the first taste of her, he wanted more. Duplicitous, delicious, devious, decadent Lauren, with her angel face and devil eyes. Despite her marriage, he felt she was his more than anyone had ever been, just for the fact that he saw a side to her no one else did. The masks came off, and the woman underneath the facade was breathtaking. She kept him off kilter, her jealousy over Sydney sparking his own over the man he shared her with.
He taunted her with it, even as he offered more of himself than most saw in recompense. And telling Michael, finally? Driving home that despair, how foolish he'd been, the dupe, detailing in whispers how she'd deceived him, in bed and out, was almost orgasmic, but mostly because he knew she was watching. It was all for her, a performance, their own little game.
But in quieter moments, he reached for her, wanting to hold her close, even as he wondered if he held her as much as she did him. There were parts of her he was never certain he reached, was never sure could be reached. For all he told Michael how much better he knew her, how much more honestly she responded to him, the twisted things she let him do to her, he was never completely convinced the words he taunted her husband with were true.
That she wanted him, he didn't doubt. That her passion was real, that he let her express parts of herself she'd never let out, he didn't discount. But that she needed the way he did, that she craved his touch with the same intensity, that she could lose herself in him the way he felt himself drowning more with each of her kisses...
In the darkest hours before dawn, listening to her even breaths as she slept beside him, he sometimes wondered if she was playing him, too.
The uncertainty just made him love her more.
I am waiting here for more
I am waiting by your door
I am waiting on your back steps
I am waiting in my car
I am waiting at this bar
I am waiting for your essence
Come on and let me taste your stuff
Baby, sweet baby, whisper my name
Shoot your love into my vein
Baby, sweet baby, kiss me hard
Make me wonder who's in charge
Baby, sweet baby, I wanna feel your breath
Even though you like to flirt with death
From the first kiss, the first taste of her, he wanted more. Duplicitous, delicious, devious, decadent Lauren, with her angel face and devil eyes. Despite her marriage, he felt she was his more than anyone had ever been, just for the fact that he saw a side to her no one else did. The masks came off, and the woman underneath the facade was breathtaking. She kept him off kilter, her jealousy over Sydney sparking his own over the man he shared her with.
He taunted her with it, even as he offered more of himself than most saw in recompense. And telling Michael, finally? Driving home that despair, how foolish he'd been, the dupe, detailing in whispers how she'd deceived him, in bed and out, was almost orgasmic, but mostly because he knew she was watching. It was all for her, a performance, their own little game.
But in quieter moments, he reached for her, wanting to hold her close, even as he wondered if he held her as much as she did him. There were parts of her he was never certain he reached, was never sure could be reached. For all he told Michael how much better he knew her, how much more honestly she responded to him, the twisted things she let him do to her, he was never completely convinced the words he taunted her husband with were true.
That she wanted him, he didn't doubt. That her passion was real, that he let her express parts of herself she'd never let out, he didn't discount. But that she needed the way he did, that she craved his touch with the same intensity, that she could lose herself in him the way he felt himself drowning more with each of her kisses...
In the darkest hours before dawn, listening to her even breaths as she slept beside him, he sometimes wondered if she was playing him, too.
The uncertainty just made him love her more.
I am waiting here for more
I am waiting by your door
I am waiting on your back steps
I am waiting in my car
I am waiting at this bar
I am waiting for your essence
