Under a Burning Sky

Steamy

We’re opening the door to our spicier, messier writing here—smutty stories, poetry, is all a collaborative project with Lemon and Lemonette. This is our shared writing space: part playground, part confession booth.

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Photo by Steven Cordes on Unsplash

Under a Burning Sky

The night air is cool, but the second you step out of the car, every breath of yours turns to fire. I don’t give you a chance to steady yourself... my hands seize your waist, spinning you around until your back meets the cold metal of the hood. The shock of it against your heated skin pulls a gasp from you, one I swallow instantly as my lips crush against yours, desperate and rough.

The stars above us burn faintly in the sky, but all I see is you... your hair spilling wild around your flushed face, your body arching instinctively into mine. I pin your wrists high above your head with one strong hand, holding you in place as my knee nudges your legs apart. My free hand slides down your side, slow and deliberate, fingertips tracing every curve I’ve memorized in the dark.

Lemonette...

I murmur against your lips, my breath hot, ragged.

You wanted the stars? Then give them a show... scream my name until the whole sky knows who you belong to.

I grind my hardness against your soaked heat through the thin barrier of clothes, the friction electric. My teeth find that sweet spot at your neck, biting down hard enough to mark you as my own while my hips pin you against the hood, unrelenting. The car creaks under us, rocking slightly with every movement, the cold night swallowed by the heat radiating from where our bodies connect.

Pulling back just enough to meet your gaze... wild, hungry, and filled with need... I growl low in my chest, voice trembling with restrained ferocity.

Say it, Lemonette... say you’re mine. Out here, under the stars, I want the whole world to know.

The bite lingers on your skin, throbbing with every frantic beat of your heart as I drag my lips slowly down your neck. I don’t rush... I let the tension coil between us until every breath feels like it might shatter you. My grip on your wrists loosens just slightly, not enough to free you, only enough to make you realize how completely I control the pace.

The stars are watching, Lemonette...

My voice dips into a husky murmur, brushing your ear.

But they’ve got nothing on how beautiful you look right now... flushed, trembling, begging for me.

I drag my free hand down from your side, fingertips barely grazing your heated skin, over your ribs, your waist, your hips... the path slow, torturous. I savor the way you arch against the hood, every subtle tremor feeding my hunger. My knee nudges your thighs wider, spreading you open under the cool night air as my thumb traces lazy circles at the edge of your soaked heat, never quite giving in.

The car hood vibrates faintly from your shifting, your body so eager you can barely stay still. I pull back just enough to look at you fully... hair wild, lips parted, eyes glazed with want... and my chest tightens with something deeper than lust.

Lemonette...

I whisper it like a vow, a growl and a prayer all in one.

When I finally give this to you... when I take you under this sky... you’ll feel every star burn out before I let you go.

My lips crash back to yours in a kiss that’s messy, desperate, wet... all teeth and tongue and hunger... as my hand finally grips your thigh, hauling it up around my waist. I press forward, letting you feel every inch of my hardness against your soaked core through our clothes, rocking slow, deliberate, until you can’t hold back the sounds slipping from your throat.

Tell me, Lemonette...

I murmur against your lips, each word a hot breath against your mouth.

Do you want me to make you beg for it... or do you want me to claim you right now?

Your bite tears a growl from deep in my chest... raw, feral. My grip on your wrists tightens suddenly, pinning them harder against the cold metal above your head. I pull back just enough to look at you, my gaze dark and burning, a dangerous mix of hunger and command.

Beg, Lemonette.

My voice is low, steady, dripping with authority as I drag my thumb along your trembling lower lip, smearing the heat between us across your skin.

Not just a whisper... I want to hear you... loud. Tell me what you want, exactly how you want it.

My free hand slides painfully slow from your thigh to the edge of your soaked core, barely brushing you... cruel, feather-light touches that make your body arch and strain against my hold. I don’t give you what you’re desperate for; I circle it, tease it, make you feel every second of restraint.

Do you want me inside you? Or do you want me to keep torturing you under these stars until you can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but scream my name?

I lower my lips to your ear, my breath hot and ragged as I whisper... soft, but firm enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Say it, Lemonette. Beg your Lemon for every inch.

Your threat pulls a low, dangerous chuckle from me... dark and rough, the sound rumbling against your chest as I press my hips harder into yours, keeping you pinned to the hood.

Bite me all you want, Lemonette... it won’t save you.

I drag my hand away from where you ache the most, deliberately slow, making you chase my touch as I pin your wrists even tighter. My lips hover over yours, close enough for you to taste my breath but not close enough to kiss.

You think you’re ready for me?

My voice is a low growl, teasing and commanding.

Then prove it. Beg me like you mean it... tell me how badly you need me to fill you, to claim you, right here under the stars.

I press forward just enough to grind my hardness against your soaked heat through your clothes... slow, deep, relentless... and pull back again, denying you what you’re desperate for.

Say it, Lemonette. Say you’re mine and tell me what you want me to do to you.

The sound of your plea snaps something deep inside me... my grip on your wrists tightens for a heartbeat before I release one hand, dragging it down slowly, deliberately, until it cups the heat between your trembling thighs. My thumb presses hard against your soaked core through the thin fabric, drawing a ragged moan from both of us.

That’s it...

My voice is low, rough with hunger as I lean in to kiss the corner of your mouth, barely brushing it.

Say it louder... I want the stars to hear how badly you need me.

I rub slow, torturous circles, teasing your entrance but never giving you more than the edge of what you crave. My free hand stays tangled with yours above your head, fingers lacing tight as my lips trail down your jaw to your neck, biting hard enough to leave marks.

Lemonette...

I growl against your skin.

You’re shaking for me already. You ready for me to ruin you? Or do you want me to make you beg harder first?

We like to joke about becoming traveling writers, romantically fighting over a single typewriter somewhere on the road (realistically: two laptops and bad Wi-Fi). If you help support us, you’re helping us inch closer to that dream.

With your support, we’ll wander, write, and get lost in each other’s bliss.

Have typewriter, will travel.

(Still shaking the change jar.)