Dark Drippy Desires のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 101 - チャプター 106

Arc 33: Wreck SeasonHis apartment is a fifteen minutes drive from the office.We sit at the back together. We don't talk in the car.His hand is on my thigh the entire ride, warm and heavy and present, his thumb moving in slow circles that are not innocent and are not trying to be, and I sit in the passenger seat with my thighs pressed together with his hand around them and I look out the window and feel every circle in places his hand isn't touching.His driver doesn't look back.Smart man.His apartment is on the nineteenth floor of a building that costs more per month than my quarterly salary and it is warm and wide and dark when he opens the door and he doesn't turn any lights on.He drops his keys on the console table.Turns around.I'm already reaching for him.He catches my face in both hands and kisses me deep and walks me backward through the dark apartment, knowing every piece of furniture by instinct, and I follow him and kiss him back and his hands move from my face to m

Arc 34: SaltwaterThe listing said two bedrooms.There is one bed.I stand in the doorway staring at it, white-linened and wide, centered under a slow ceiling fan, and the sound of the ocean comes through the open window and fills the silence that Darius isn't filling because he's standing behind me looking at the exact same thing and saying absolutely nothing.Which is somehow worse than if he said something.I have worked beside this man for seven months. Shared conference rooms. Shared takeout containers at eleven PM when a deadline swallowed the evening. Shared a twelve-hour drive to a client site in February where the heater broke and we sat with our coats on and our breath fogging and talked about everything except what was sitting between us like a third passenger.There has always been something sitting between us.I turn around.He's closer than I expect. Dark eyes already on my face. White linen shirt with the collar open, the top two buttons undone, and the coastal air has

Warmth wakes me before he does.Not sunlight. Not his body against mine, though that is there too, warm and solid at my back. Something more specific. The warmth of oil, heated between his palms, pressed slowly into my shoulders in circles that reach deep into the muscle and pull a sound out of me before I am fully conscious.I keep my eyes closed.His hands move down my spine. His thumbs press into either side of each vertebra with a precise pressure that sits exactly at the border of too much without crossing it. The oil is warm. Something sweet underneath it, coconut, and the smell of it mixes with salt air coming through the cracked window and the sound of the ocean and I feel myself dissolving into the mattress one vertebra at a time.He moves lower.My lower back. The curve where my spine meets my hips. His thumbs press into the dimples there and my hips tilt involuntarily and I hear him exhale slowly behind me.His hands spread across my hips.Work the oil in wide circles.Move