the kid gone for the night, having met a friend at school.
dinner eaten, dishes left next to the sink.
your clothing discarded and dropped on the floor; a piece in the dining room, two in the living room, the rest next to the tub.
he’d been touching you all night — so clear in his intent, so blatant in his want — and you were surprised he had lasted as long as he did with how he had crowded you against the sink earlier, how he had tugged you into his lap at the table, how he had kissed the nape of your neck as he walked you to the bedroom.
it’s been quiet all evening with just the two of you and it’s quiet now — the only sounds the gentle lapping of water against the sides of the tub, the soft sounds you let escape into his eager mouth, the low hums of savor he lets out into yours.
