Paper Planes l Popov Safehouse #28

Iva snarled, trying to wiggle out from under him with little success. Another moan escaped, despite her attempt to keep it in. Her hand found its way into his hair and tugged sharply, hoping for a reaction.

Then, an idea arose. She automatically relaxed.

"Ah, don't stop," she mumbled, eyes fluttering shut. She took a moment to enjoy it, tugging his hair again, "Don't stop, Dame,"

Tre allowed himself to believe he'd won for a moment, her wiggling becoming increasingly distracting. He groaned, moving his hips against her as his mouth continued its attack, her hands in his hair distracting enough. As she relaxed, so did he, but he was still wary. He would never win against her, he knew it.

Her voice, its terribly addicting pitch, distracting him as well.

He smirked, moving and sitting back on his haunches to look down at her. The look her gave her was primal, possessive, dark, but he grinned at her, all appearances the Tre she'd always known.

He chuckled, standing. "You flatter me by thinking that I'd be insulted by being called your boyfriends name." He grinned innocently. "I'm just more convinced that he isn't as good at pleasing you as I am."

With a sigh he scooped up his drawing notebook, leaving the rest of the pages there and disappearing into his room.

Iva sat up, leaning back on to her elbows as she tried to regain her breath. A smile crept on to her face, sensing her victory.

"Goodbye, Treshawn," she called, sitting up and rubbing his spit off of her neck. "Maybe next time you can be better than Dame,"