you‘re not allowed to pull out

She hooks her ankles behind your lower back before you even think about moving, the grip deliberate and practiced. Her eyes stay locked on yours — not a request, a statement.

Your weight settles deeper and her breath catches, fingers pressing into your shoulders like punctuation. The warmth around you tightens whenever you shift, her body answering every small motion with its own quiet insistence.

She tilts her hips upward, drawing you closer still, and the word *stay* never leaves her mouth because it doesn't have to. You already know. You were never leaving.