( he doesn't have to tell her for her to sense it — the embarrassment that balms over his features, and she wishes nothing more than to tuck it away, soothe it away, kiss it away. it'd never been all about sex for her, and while she can't deny having a taste of how he felt didn't make some deeply tucked-down part of her yearn for more, it wasn't a be all end all. his company softening her nights was the first bit of relief she's felt in this city since she'd first stepped foot within it. she doesn't want to lose that; hyperaware and slightly fearful that this line they've crossed might, eventually, cause him to withdraw.
only he's doing the opposite — running that thumb thoughtfully down the center of her lips, lower, as if bisecting her with the touch, and she knows what he's going for as soon as the words leave his lips. her own pink petals part in protest, a short-lived )
You don—
( only he seems to be expecting it, and knows expertly how to hush her selfless insistence, as if they'd been with another this way dozens and dozens of times. a hot breath at her ear, sending a current down her spine, zinging to the tips of her toes. her pulse still runs rampant within her chest, and he's not shy to dip his hand beneath that black layer as he had just before his cock had slipped into her, only now it's the curl of a single digit, that wicked accompaniment of thumb takes to that sensitive knot, and every bit of protest she'd held formerly on her tongue dissolves into a gratified sigh.
it's not easy for her, not anything she's accustomed to, giving in to him this way — it shouldn't be difficult to grasp, but it's... not what she used to, yet despite the fact that it's not the plentiful size of his length fitting inside of her, her walls clutch around the digit all the same, contented to continue that slow-coil that starts as a flicker of embers between her hips.
his teeth at her throat has her reeling, slowly arching crown back against that cushion, and fingertips manage to find the edge of it just above her, clutching there and giving a tug at the pillow as her hips buck against his wrist of their own accord. )
no subject
only he's doing the opposite — running that thumb thoughtfully down the center of her lips, lower, as if bisecting her with the touch, and she knows what he's going for as soon as the words leave his lips. her own pink petals part in protest, a short-lived )
You don—
( only he seems to be expecting it, and knows expertly how to hush her selfless insistence, as if they'd been with another this way dozens and dozens of times. a hot breath at her ear, sending a current down her spine, zinging to the tips of her toes. her pulse still runs rampant within her chest, and he's not shy to dip his hand beneath that black layer as he had just before his cock had slipped into her, only now it's the curl of a single digit, that wicked accompaniment of thumb takes to that sensitive knot, and every bit of protest she'd held formerly on her tongue dissolves into a gratified sigh.
it's not easy for her, not anything she's accustomed to, giving in to him this way — it shouldn't be difficult to grasp, but it's... not what she used to, yet despite the fact that it's not the plentiful size of his length fitting inside of her, her walls clutch around the digit all the same, contented to continue that slow-coil that starts as a flicker of embers between her hips.
his teeth at her throat has her reeling, slowly arching crown back against that cushion, and fingertips manage to find the edge of it just above her, clutching there and giving a tug at the pillow as her hips buck against his wrist of their own accord. )