The headboard is cracking against the wall. I try to reach for it, to stop it for our neighbor's sake. That's a lie. My fists are balled up in the sheets while my boyfriend slams into me, his balls slapping wet against my ass. My legs are weak, trembling, his grip viselike around my waist.

I look up at him through bleary vision, smiling weak and blissful. Determination carved into his face, jaw tight. We haven't seen each other in weeks and he's making me feel it. I muster enough strength to tilt my hips and clench down around his cock. He groans, ragged and surprised, and his rhythm stutters. Cute.

I keep rolling my hips to meet his thrusts, working his dick, coaxing it to give up everything. He shudders. Palms leave my waist, fingers digging into my thighs hard enough to bruise. I squirm in his grasp and watch him pull upright, spine going rigid. His breathing goes still and all that remains is the filthy wet clap of us fucking, skin on skin. I giggle, knowing what's coming next.

He pulls out with a slick pop from my cunt. I whine at the sudden emptiness as he sits up on his knees. His hand wraps around his cock, flushed and wet with me, and strokes with desperate speed. My eyes bounce between his face and his fist. Flushed cheeks, blown-out pupils. A single grunt tears from his throat. His posture falters, shoulders bowing forward. I smile, hungry.

It starts as a trickle.

Another grunt. His hand stills, gripping the base. I watch his balls jerk once, tight against his body, and the pearly bead at his tip swells fat before it launches. The shot crosses the distance and hits my left breast hard enough to make it jiggle. A fleck ricochets off, lands on my lip. I taste it immediately. Salt and bitter musk and him.

Heat sears instantly where it strikes, sticky and dense as it coats my nipple. The pink nub stiffens hard from the sudden contact, aching. My legs try to snap shut on instinct but his thighs block them open. A breathless laugh escapes me, chest tight with shocked delight. God, yes.

I look down at myself. The wide white rope contrasts obscenely against my pale skin, opaque where it pools around my nipple, translucent at the edges as it cools and spreads. The smell hits me now, raw and musky, undeniably him.

The heat keeps spreading across my breast, scorching where it's thickest at the ridge of my straining nipple.

Movement drags my gaze back up. His hips thrust forward into his fist, cock jumping, another wave building. His jaw clenches. I bite my lip, waiting, aching for it.

A larger glob ejects from the tip, heavier than the first. The weight pulls it down faster, leaving a thin pearlescent streak through the air as it arcs toward me. It lands in the shallow valley between my ribs, just below my sternum. A light tap, almost delicate, before the heat punches through me and I flinch inward, gasping.

The impact sends it splashing outward, spreading across my stomach in streaks and rivulets. Thinner here than on my breast, covering more ground. I watch it pool and scatter, painting me. The temperature shifts fast, searing where it first hits, then cooling as it stretches across my skin in glossy trails. I can hear his ragged breathing now, harsh and uneven.

My own breath shudders out. Marked. That's what this is. The filthy mess of it, the obscenity of being painted like this. I feel dirty and loved at once, claimed by the evidence cooling on my stomach. My fingers twist tighter in the sheets, knuckles white. All I can do is purr, a low satisfied sound rumbling from deep in my throat.

A guttural groan tears from low in his belly, and his cock spasms again. His hand falls away and I watch, transfixed, as his balls contract hard. The pulse travels visibly up his shaft, slower this time, less violent. The final dollop emerges with diminished force, dropping more than shooting.

My lower belly takes the hit with a soft wet splat. My muscles tense reflexively and I prop myself up on my elbows, needing to see this. The fat glob sits there for a heartbeat before gravity takes over. It begins to slide, not straight but circling, spiraling slowly down the gentle slope of my stomach.

My breath catches as it reaches the rim of my bellybutton. The sensation tickles, weirdly delicate for something so dirty. I stop breathing entirely, not wanting to disturb its path. The first pearly drop spills over the edge and I squirm, unable to help myself, a small whimper escaping. Then more follows, pooling, filling that small hollow. The weight of it settles there, concentrated warmth in that vulnerable divot.

I look down at the milky pool, glossy and slightly overflowing, threatening to spill with my next breath. The smell is stronger now, everywhere.

A few final drips remain.

Tip, tap, tip.

They drip on my mound, the last weak drops spattering skin. His cock drools, softening in his loosened grip. I survey the landscape of my body. The rope across my breast, the streaks on my ribs, the pool in my navel. Sticky, shiny, warm and cooling. Claimed.

My eyes shift up to his.

"I missed you," he says, voice wrecked, that crooked smile breaking across his flushed face.

I look down at myself again. The evidence of exactly how much. Then back at him. A satisfied smile curves my lips.

"I can tell."