The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Inside Our World


It was raining outside.

The sound and the overcast sky made it feel like they were in their own private little world, and for a moment, Saruhiko pulled his head up just to feel that—again.

Misaki either didn’t notice or didn’t care and worked his fingers into Saruhiko’s hair to pull him down impatiently and press their mouths together again, hot and wet and hungry. He forgot to be self-conscious like this, just them, just their bed, just their breaths warm and soft between them, soft gasps, wandering hands hot on bare skin.

Misaki didn’t even notice it raining.


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