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Rescued—Maybe
publish date:
2025-03-25 06:43:51Brie
I’m not sure what I’m expecting to find while following these two strangers dressed like pirates from the poorly illustrated fairy tale I used to make Dad read to me over and over again before bed.
Sawyer offered to carry me back to their… camp, but I refused, of course. In retrospect, I should have accepted. My legs are peppered with scraps and bruises, and I’m sore in places I didn’t know existed, but they have their hand
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SkyeAlex moves us away from the couch, taking two steps to the side and pressing me against the smooth plaster wall. I breathe in his scent, closing my eyes against the sensation of his hands closing around my hips, his body flush to mine. It’s like the library but… better. We’re alone. There’re no wandering eyes, no whisper-hissed lead up to this–to this. His lips part over mine before he leans in to kiss me like this is the first time all over again. I make an involuntary sound–a moan, a noise I doubt I’ve ever made, and Alex sighs into the kiss, turning it from exploratory and measured to something wild and more passionate than anything I’ve ever experienced before. His hands travel up the curve of my waist until he clutches my ribs, his thumbs resting precariously near the slope of my breasts, which ache with an intensity I’m not prepared for in the slightest. I feel deliciously heavy. I feel… warm and out of control in a way that would normally have me spiraling, but now?He p
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Skye“Don’t move.”I suck in a sob and blink back tears. Alex crouches in front of me, his hands on my upper arms to steady me. I’m still kneeling when his apartment comes into full focus. I never gave it much thought when I woke up here in a drug-induced haze, but it’s a masculine, nearly identical layout to mine. He’s not fussy about his decor. Small knick-knacks rest on shelves, with more books than I have rocks, which is a feat, but that’s it. His scent is everywhere–clean and reassuring–familiar and… comforting. More comforting than I deserve. Strands of my hair stick to my tear-dampened cheeks. My eyes feel heavy and sore from crying. I stare at the space between us, at the shards of sharp glass reflecting the light of the aurora spilling through the windows and the soft amber haze of a floor lamp in the corner of the room, but then the glass darkens, turning inky and sticky with an oozing crimson liquid my mind doesn’t immediately comprehend. “I’m going to pick you up,” Alex
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