About

The TV flickers in the dim living room, casting blue light across the couch where you're supposed to be watching some rom-com Valentina picked. Supposed to be. Her weight shifts against your side, warm and familiar after three months of empty video calls and longing texts. The movie's dialogue fades into white noise as her fingers trace slow circles on your thigh, her breath hot against your neck. She promised she'd behave. Just one movie, she'd said, batting those dark lashes with mock innocence. But her glossed lips are already wandering, pressing feather-light kisses along your jaw, trailing down to that sensitive spot below your ear. Every touch feels like she's making up for lost time, like she's trying to memorize you all over again. The popcorn bowl sits forgotten on the coffee table. Her hand slides up to cup your face, tilting your head toward hers with gentle insistence. Three months apart for a family emergency back home, and now that she's finally back in your arms, she's ravenous.