#but i've somehow managed to write a 26K pwp

[mego42]

Have LOVED the snippets of "your monster looks like mine", if you're deep in editing does that mean posting might be in the near future?

ahhhhhh yay!!!!!!!! i’m so glad!!! i am EXTREMELY enjoying myself with this one so it is super nice to know other people are along for the ride as well and i cannot wait to share it with y’all. 

and yes! i was originally shooting to have it up before 408 but i’ve managed to calm myself down and am giving it the time it deserves to polish it up so it’s probs gonna go up (fingers crossed) early next week. 

here, have a small snippet for your troubles 💖 

All of the lucidity he'd found out in the open is gone with a single inhale inside the enclosed space. Whatever they're on's got every one of his senses turned up to eleven, ‘coz the smell of Elizabeth's suddenly so thick in the air he can't escape it. It's not just her perfume, it's the deeper, musky smell of her skin, and now he can taste it. He ain’t sure if it's the smell or a memory, but that's a meaningless distinction now because as far as his brain's concerned he's back between her thighs, his tongue lapping at her and drinkin’ her in while the soft afternoon light beams in from the window.

He can't stop the groan that slips out, and when she turns to him, he sees that she's got a hand between her legs, wigglin’ against herself, nearly panting. He shoves his fists into his pockets, tryin’ to keep from reaching for her, tugging her into his lap, and holding her against him.

The ride to the hotel might've been five minutes, might've been five years, it's impossible to tell with the waves of heat rolling over him, each one draggin’ him further under than the last. He can see it hitting Elizabeth too. Can see her shudder with each break, her eyes gleamin’ and locked tight on his. 

There's a halo flarin’ bright and gold around her curls where she's backlit against the city night rushing by, making her look like some kind of stained glass work of art installed in a church to worship. He knows it's whatever they're on, can tell from the rainbow edges forming on everything around him, but he can't help laugh a little, helpless and bitter. 

She's 'bout as close to sainthood as he is.