Redtail Rise black flies on the windowsill

Of all the things in the world he had come to discover, it was touch he found to be most intimate. There was no shortage of words he could pluck from thin air to describe it, or the cascade of sensations that came with the falling of one's most instinctual guard. He drew in the mix of heady scents that adorned her frame slowly and discarded them on next breath as she stepped past, his gaze trailing after her. It was with a slow turn he moved to follow her, and met her gaze.

Little deliberation followed his actions next; he closed in the gap between them, spurred on by a possessive burn as he pressed close to her again. A past version of him would have considered teasing her then, trying to draw and stretch out that indescribable line of desire in a wordless gaze to its breaking point. He had played this game once before and all for naught—it had been a lesson learned that opportunity was best seized.

With certain swiftness he moved to draw her lithe frame beneath him and from there needed neither instruction nor encouragement. It mattered not if he had carried a concern for the future after that, for all was rendered silent in his thoughts as he uncovered the rewards the little blackbird had to offer. He meant for it not to be one-sided; he would hold her close, and hold her tight, but he would endeavor to make it worth her while.

glossing over the nitty gritty (because i legit suck at writing anything of the sort) and leaving this open-ended in case lily has a change of heart and tears off his face haha. ;)