( he draws out and her ribs mimic him, expanding around a breath and when those hips hit flush with hers again she can't help but to let heavy lids flutter to a close, eyes rolling heavenward beneath as lashes kiss her cheeks. she's nothing but a collision of breaths and sounds fighting for her tongue, brows pulling to a tuft as she lifts her head a bit from that couch to nudge their foreheads together, press hers to his and pry her eyes open to watch him—the way his jaw sets, the way those dog tags gleam like a pendulum between her breasts, the sight of him pulling back once more only to insistently chase out that heat again with a bit sharper of a snap.
it earns him another moan, low and silk-like, as if to say: again. and he obliges, eager to set a pace better suited to the fire they'd stoked before they'd even made it to that couch. she can still taste the bourbon hiding out beneath her tongue, savors the way it hums at the tip of her skull and she's fallen too far behind for breaths to find anything steady, forced from her throat every time his hips greet her own.
there's no part of her that isn't praising him, the clips of hums that raise in pitch—decorating their immediate surroundings; for him, because of him, the way nails feast against the rippling muscles in his back as he works into her, unaware that they nearly break skin because all she can feel is that searing pleasure. it doesn't miss her what he might be able to do with the solidity of a bed beneath them, how much harder he'd be able to meet her and god she's nothing short of maddened beneath him, hips fluently rocking up to meet him every time his cock drives back into her. again, and again and again.
he shouldn't be allowed to get to her this way, she shouldn't have let him so close that that brief hint of a smile only causes her to unravel further—something tender wrapping about that muscle within her chest as the edges of her lips twitch, and while she tries for an airy snicker it's not long before it's stolen, fades in favor of pleasure that etches itself distinctly across her features, the steel blue of her gaze. she revels in the way she ruts up against that couch every time he shifts against her, iris' blooming as she bends her thumb, uses the pad of it to make his lower lip furl downward, entranced by the sight, and it's on the crest of another thrust that she hangs another plea: )
no subject
it earns him another moan, low and silk-like, as if to say: again. and he obliges, eager to set a pace better suited to the fire they'd stoked before they'd even made it to that couch. she can still taste the bourbon hiding out beneath her tongue, savors the way it hums at the tip of her skull and she's fallen too far behind for breaths to find anything steady, forced from her throat every time his hips greet her own.
there's no part of her that isn't praising him, the clips of hums that raise in pitch—decorating their immediate surroundings; for him, because of him, the way nails feast against the rippling muscles in his back as he works into her, unaware that they nearly break skin because all she can feel is that searing pleasure. it doesn't miss her what he might be able to do with the solidity of a bed beneath them, how much harder he'd be able to meet her and god she's nothing short of maddened beneath him, hips fluently rocking up to meet him every time his cock drives back into her. again, and again and again.
he shouldn't be allowed to get to her this way, she shouldn't have let him so close that that brief hint of a smile only causes her to unravel further—something tender wrapping about that muscle within her chest as the edges of her lips twitch, and while she tries for an airy snicker it's not long before it's stolen, fades in favor of pleasure that etches itself distinctly across her features, the steel blue of her gaze. she revels in the way she ruts up against that couch every time he shifts against her, iris' blooming as she bends her thumb, uses the pad of it to make his lower lip furl downward, entranced by the sight, and it's on the crest of another thrust that she hangs another plea: )
Harder.