But this is different.
Grayson and me? There is a line that I can recognize between us, it keeps me from pushing him too far.
But Axel is different. Axel is the first that found me in this timeline. The first to leave his mark. The first to wrap me up into him. To twist me to the point of discomfort. To bring me back to life.
My memory splices between Grayson’s words and when I was on the rooftop with Axel.
Has it been Axel all along? Is he the reason we all opened ourselvesto each other?
“What are you thinking?” Axel grumbles, his eyes narrowing in distrust. “If you think there is anything you can do to convince me you aren’t a Little Lamb, that you can handle the shit this would put you through, then you are wron–"
Again I take a page from Axel himself: I don’t think.
My hands reach up, burrowing my fingers into his wet hair.
He must have showered before I came up here.
I tug him down to me, and for his part, he doesn’t fight me.
And then we are kissing. His lips are harsh and cruel. They leave no space for me, so I make room.
Shoving my tongue into his mouth, I battle against him. I put as much of my emotions, my feelings into the kiss, and as I do, I roll my hips upwards against his length.
For months, Axel and I have been dancing.
Dancing around the truth.
Dancing around our pain.
Dancing around our feelings.
Dancing around the inevitable.
This. This is the inevitable.
The purple line between us is still ever present, but I do my best to block it out, how it brightens the longer we kiss. Even through my eyelids I can see it, but I focus on Axel instead.
On how his body relaxes against mine, on how even freshly showered he smells like leather, on the warmth of his skin. The way it ignites my belly to connect and reestablish the feelings we both have. The ones that have been riding me for months.
The ones I’m finally following.
Axel pulls away first,panting. He hovers above me. “You think this is enough? To prove you’re some tough girl?”
Axel moves one of his hands to my throat, he applies just a bit of pressure, watching my eyes, my face, my reaction.
I groan. I can’t help myself. It feelsgood. His fingers are squeezing the sides of my neck, I can still breathe, but it’s restricted. My head feels lighter. It’s easier to not overthink when all of my effort is put into allowing air in and out of my lungs.
I reach up and I see the satisfaction on his face. He thinks he’s won. But then my fingers wrap around his much larger hand, applying more pressure.
My hips undulate up and into his length. I need the friction, I need to feel him.
I want more.
I am going to have more.
“Axel,” I moan.
“You stupid.” Thrust “Idiot.” Thrust. “Girl.” Thrust.
