After Run, Status: Rain-Soaked
Just another thing off the bucket list. There wasn't much thought behind it. Just a quick text to him that said, "go running with me."
A text back two minutes later that replied, "it's storming outside."
A response, more snappish than anything, stating, "you're not gonna melt."
It took forty-five minutes until they finished. The storm thickened more, if possible, drenching them with each heavy, soggy step they made through flooding streets and filthy puddles. They laughed all the while, the rain pouring so hard that their voices got lost in the sound of it all. Their usual loop took thirty minutes at the most on a normal, summer's day. The storm was an added bonus; playful shoves into showering trees and finding shelter under old gazebos they'd find in much other neighborhoods up and down the trail.
Her face was flushed staring at him while they took a break. She was cold and shivering profusely from the rain, but she'd manage for when they'd start again. He was to the side of her, arms leaning against the railing of the gazebo, eyes half-lidded in a very feral way as he stared out at the downpour. It was mesmerizing, the way she couldn't tell if it was his sweat dripping from her hair and down his face or the rain. His shirt was so soaked that it was see-through; all of those fine muscles that she'd been dreaming of touching just there. She could stop the run right then and there, but she decided not to.
"Two minutes, then we go again. No more stops," she said quietly. He glanced at her from the corner of her eye in a way that she couldn't see it. Then his eyes trailed downwards to her own clothing-- how tightly it clung to her like a second skin. How he could see the scars on her hips, arms, and legs from their childhood together. She was such a klutz back in the day. Now he couldn't look at her that same, brotherly way he once did. He wanted her. All of her. That was all that matters.
They barely caught their breaths as they stumbled through the doors of her house, him slamming her back against the way, lips messily meeting in such a way that their teeth clanked momentarily. Her legs found themselves tangled around his waist, arms hugging around his neck for dear life. Tongues intertwined, eyes closed, pupils dilating. When he pulled away, there was a string of saliva still attached to their tongues that broke, strand suiciding against her chin. Her breathing was shallow, as was his, and he could smell each part of her; the sweat. The rain.
The storm door was open, rain pooling into the house and splashing against the floor. He'd clean it later. For now, he was too caught up in pinning her to the floor and placing kisses down her neck. Her hands pressed into this hair, wanting more of his touch. More of his heat.
Her moans and gasps went barely unheard; they almost lost themselves in the cloudburst.