Wicked
Payton Preslee, Apollo Banks Pic(s)
The torrential downpour transformed their mundane evening into a primal baptism, plastering thin cotton to every curve and hollow as they stumbled through the apartment door laughing. Each droplet became a liquid jewel tracing the architecture of collarbones and shoulder blades, their clothes clinging like second sk rendered transparent by nature’s artistry. His gaze followed the rivulets carving paths through the fabric stretched taut over her chest, watching water cascade from darkened nipples that stood alert agat the chill. Her fingers trembled as she pushed soaked hair from her face, the movement making her shirt ride up to reveal the hypnotic sway of her waist where rainwater pooled in the dip of her navel. Steam began to rise from their heated bodies in the cool entryway, carrying the petrichor scent of drenched earth mingled with the salt of their exertion. He watched a single drop cling to the delicate shell of her ear before falling to the pulse point at her throat, his own breath catching at the way her chest rose and fell with each ragged inhalation. Her palm slid up his forearm, feeling the rigid tension of muscles beneath slick skin, her touch leaving trails of fire in the wake of cooling rainwater. The world narrowed to the symphony of their breathing harmonizing with the percussion of rain agat windows, every shiver and gasp weaving an invisible thread of anticipation between them. In that suspended moment drenched in storm and possibility, the space between their lips diminished with the gravitational pull of two bodies remembering they were mostly made of water.
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