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The words he longed to say lingered somewhere in between, too close to being spoken and well and truly hidden away.
It was impossible to say later which vice he would hold responsible for the slip of his tongue; the remains of the shared blunt in his mother"s antique ashtray or the sweet red swindled from the cellar.
Pansy was his best friend. It was only natural as time and hormones went on; they would experiment with each other. Through the darkest times, it was a comfort, even if all they did was share a bed at the end of the night. That’s when it started to change into something more, as they questioned everything once taught to them in quiet whispers only for the other to hear.
So when she straddled his lap, and their tongues met, and she tasted like that last sweet drink they shared, he found himself swept up in her. Sharp nails on his skin and the quiet encouragement of her sweet sounds balanced the pleasure and pain in perfect harmony. She rode him, using the high back of the sofa for leverage, her cheeks flushed and dark eyes closed.
The exterior she presented to the outside world was immaculate, without flaw or blemish, hidden behind fashion and makeup - a mask of perfection he was familiar with- but he knew she was prettiest like this.
Few else ever got to see the little dragon tattooed on her rib caged ( that was definitely not for him) or the barbell piercings through her nipples and all the other little signs of rebellion from their former beliefs.
“I love you.”
She stopped, staring down at him in disbelief.
“What?”
“I said, I know what you need.” He corrected, mentally scolding himself. With a swiftness, he turned her around on his lap and impaled on his cock again.
“Yeeesss.” She hummed, guiding his fingers to rub her clit as the other hand held her steady so he could drive up into her. He didn’t let up even as she was squeezing him, and all he wanted to do was release. He could wait, and he would wait until she was boneless.
With a shout of his name, she came, going boneless in his hold. Then he allowed himself to follow after, pouring into her with half-formed curses and praises.
They stayed like that for a moment, panting and basking in the afterglow. Pansy pushed his hair from his face and kissed his cheek with a chiming giggle.
“I love you too,” she answered quietly. “I was just waiting for you to admit. I should have known you’d act like some sappy sod and say it during sex.”
He swatted her on the arse and eased her off, as she laughed again. They searched for their discarded clothes; Pansy produced a hair tie and a pair of knickers and seemed content with that.
“It wasn’t the sex. It was the wine,” he insisted, pulling on his newly found shorts.
“Hhmmm…if you say so. Well, I want to shower, and you should join me and see if the wine has anything else to say.”