ᅠ ️️ ️️️️️️️️️ ️️ 𝐓𝙰𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙰 𝐓𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙴𝚁.

ᅠ THE CORRUPTION BEGINS WITH THE MOUTH, THE TONGUE, THE WANTING. THE FIRST POEM IN THE WORLD IS 𝘐 𝘞𝘈𝘕𝘛 𝘛𝘖 𝘌𝘈𝘛. ᅠ

he can’t help how his breathe hitches. body shuddering, gripping the edge of the counter like it’s a lifeline to some semblance of reality. that last thread of restraint being pulled with such ease. lips against his jaw and it’s his final undoing. “you have—we have.” voice—

his chest tighten, the counter cold against his back, but there’s nothing cold about the way he responds. one hand slides up her side, firm, steady, while the other rests at her waist, keeping her close. a breath catching in his throat. “you want me to say it?” his voice is—

his gaze never leaves hers, as if he’s daring her to be the one to break first. “if you really want to test it…” he lets the thought hang in the space between them, “really want to know what I *want.” his body leaning in just enough that she can feel the heat of his —

“maybe it’s not just about saving,” he says, voice softer, the weight of the words settling in the space between them. “maybe it’s about fighting for what I know I still want.” he leans in, just a little, but doesn’t break the invisible line they’ve drawn between them, like —

“testing if there’s anything left to save.” he doesn’t touch her, doesn’t breathe too hard, like the whole moment might collapse if he does. but his eyes are steady—aching, defiant. “and I think… I still want there to be.”

the weight of years—of longing—pressing into him. breath hitches ever so slightly, but he doesn’t move. “you’re … testing me, tai.” jaw tightening, lets out a breath, slow and measured, trying to reclaim control. “all I’m saying is, there’s only so much I can hold onto.”

“guess it depends on the reason you’re asking.” leans in— not enough to close the space completely. gaze drifts—eyes, lips, eyes again. “you’ve been playing with fire long enough, tai… don’t be surprised when it burns.” a knowing look tossed. “or is that what you want?”

“since you started making everything sound like a trick question.” he doesn’t hesitate—just leans in and presses a slow, grounding kiss to her forehead. reverent and steady. “hi,” he murmurs, softer now.pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. “took you long enough.”

“funny thing about bad decisions—sometimes, they’re just good ones waiting to happen.” he lets the silence hang, his eyes daring her to make the first move. “c’mere.”

“sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. wine and relentless affection? you’re practically begging for a hangover and bad decisions.” he leans in slightly, grin widening. “but I guess if you need a partner in crime… I’m very good at making bad decisions look intentional.”