He came upon her standing in the kitchen, the half-dried plates from this morning's breakfast forgotten on the counter in front of her, totally entranced by the tiktoks on her phone.

Her long blue hair was tied up in a rough bun. A pair of wet dish gloves sat idly by as the faucet drip-drip-dripped, the only other sound in the room.

He padded closer, bare feet never making a sound against the cool linoleum. He waited until he was directly behind her before he delivered the most wicked dual-finger poke to both sides of her stomach, eliciting a blood-curdling scream. The phone dropped from her hands into the dry sink as he scooped her writhing form up into his arms and threw her over his shoulder.

He carried her, kicking and shrieking with mirth ("Oh I hate you, I HATE you!") to the couch in the next room. He swung her off his shoulder and covered her face and hair with kisses before gently tossing her down.

He mercilessly pushed her back down to the couch as she tried to escape, again and again, finally pinning her arms above her head while she smiled breathlessly up at him.

A look. Unspoken consent and she was in his arms again. Ten steps to the bedroom. Five to the bed ("I coulda walked."). The new place is nice. No worrying about roommates, parents or siblings overhearing or interrupting. A bed that can actually hold two people. Will hold two people.

Then came the clumsy fumbling at buttons. Zippers. It had been a while. No time with the move. All the time in the world, now. Their clothes dumped unceremoniously at the foot of the bed. Falling in one after the other ("Come here. Come right here.").

He lowered her to the blankets, opened her legs. Taking both of her hands in the grasp of one of his, lifting her arms above her head, pinning them roughly to the base of the headboard ("Yes.") as a he lowered his long body between her legs. He kissed the lobe of her left ear, felt her shiver as he set his lips to the pulse of at the hollow of her neck, trailed down to her chest where her nipples had grown hard in the cool air of the room.

Her breath was hot in his ear ("Yes."). She freed her hands, slid them along his shoulders, trailed long nails down his back, grasped his butt to pull him closer. A confidence he had never felt from her, not at his parent's place or hers. His erection scraped against her pubic hair, throbbed against the cusp of her tummy.

Warmth above and below, her tongue in his mouth as he entered her ("Yes..."). Welcomed by warm friction. His body strained deep, pulled back slightly, allowed the moist warmth to engulf him further as they began to move together. She breathed warmth against his lips.

Quickening thrusts. Senses dwindling ("Yes... yes... yes..."). Existence seeming to contract to just this room as she closes warm and wet and tight around him. Her hips thrust sharply in response now, as if sensing the terrible build in pressure at the base of his being. Demanding. He closes his eyes. Opens them. Meets her own. Red. Red? Had they always been red? Purest pleasure parsing the moment in seconds. Two final sighs, one after the other.

He lay there with his head in her lap after. She made him lean up against her chest. More comfortable. Easy access to his head and hair which she was now stroking. He felt out of it. Post-coital... something. Dizzy. Dizzy? The ceiling is spinning. Slurring his words as he feels claws like vice grips closing around his neck.

Looking up at her, his mouth going slack at the sight of her lower jaw unfolding like some tooth-petaled flower. A silent scream. No use worrying about roommates overhearing. Parents interrupting. She almost seemed to smile at him ("The new place is nice.") as she leaned down. She bit into his head and began sucking out the juices.