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“I love you like this,” he says it against my neck. He’s nosing his way up my throat and along my jaw. His hands are back on my hips and mine are in his hair. He’s ghosting barely-there touches up and down my sides. I’m scratching his head in the way I know he likes. Maybe it’s the promise of scones that makes him so bubbly. If I could keep him like this forever, our apartment would permanently smell of sour cherry scones.
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Baz can't sleep so Simon's solution to this is to bake scones in the middle of the night
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Bookmark Notes:
delicate and aching and so lovely
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Bookmark Notes:
why am i crying rn
i want a love like this
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Bookmark Notes:
<3
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Bookmark Notes:
Soft
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