storm and want
The artillery of thunder on top of us, petrichor bursting in the window, you tilting your head, my mouth exploding a shiver in you as lips, teeth, tongue land on your neck. Your salt—lightning. Zaps me. Jaw to spine.
The artillery of thunder on top of us, petrichor bursting in the window, you tilting your head, my mouth exploding a shiver in you as lips, teeth, tongue land on your neck. Your salt—lightning. Zaps me. Jaw to spine.