"Jesus," I sob, and I think my cheeks are wet but I ignore it. I don't bother to wipe my hand across my face. I don't acknowledge it at all. I've got my hand in his hair and I drag him up until I can catch his lips with mine, licking away the taste of my own come with a strangled moan.

Groping at his shirt, I drag it up and off of him, and I'm pretty sure I hear something tear, but who the fuck even cares?