He wants her mouth.

He wants her lips to brush his neck as she talks. He wants to see her smile because it lights up her eyes and curves her full lips flawlessly. He wants to see her part her lips in concentration. He wants to see her lips pursed in a seductive pout. He wants to see her bite her lip red and moan at his behest.

He wants to kiss her, trace her lips with his tongue, and press his lips hard against hers, tasting her, his own mouth dry with the desire.

She wants his mouth.

She wants his mouth lingering on her stomach and her shoulders. She wants to see him smirk arrogantly because it's sexy and infuriating. She wants to see him run his hand over his lips when he's frustrated; it contaminates her thoughts. She wants to see him lick his lips just a little when he's thinking. She wants to see him clench his teeth beneath his lips and press his mouth into her shoulder, muffling a groan.

She wants to kiss him, claim his mouth for her tongue and hers alone, bruise his mouth with hers, intoxicating herself with him and dizzying her senses until she gasped for breath.

She wanted to feel her three favorite words on his lips as he mumbled them against her neck, and he was as desperate to say them, cementing them with a soft kiss.

And, finis.