( that ragged huff of words imprints itself against the sensitive line of her neck, a single heated patter of his breath palming over her shoulder, running it's nails down along her spine before it settles in a hot, needy pang at the apex of her thighs. her thighs ache in use — lungs fastening tight around any bit of a breath they can find — and it gets to a point where she's using that headboard to help pull herself every time she's rocking forward, that helpless winding that brings her closer and closer urging her not to stop. she didn't want a sweet release, something soft and sapping, she wanted to utterly break within his arms, come apart at every seam and leave him cradling what's left behind.
and that's exactly what she does, and when that second crest of the night hits it's all she can do to cling to him, every bit of mind she has left intent to keep hips moving, riding with the lack of precision, the lazed, heady grind of her end. and that telling twitch of his cock before he's coating her just wrings her through another silvery throb.
when the two of them come down, him a few trembling moments after her, she can't bring herself to shift off of him, to move, to do anything but be right there with his forearm cradling her back, muscles within her arms and limbs giving a gratified sigh as that iron-wrought tension gives. her mouth's falling against the line of his shoulder, nosing there until she meets that near seamless greeting of flesh and metal — there's a slight rise of the skin, there, the swell of a scar, perhaps, and a single, ginger kiss is left there before she merely rests her cheek against broad muscle.
she's swallowing back a tiny whimper like an after-thought, reveling in the calm of simply being held. )
no subject
and that's exactly what she does, and when that second crest of the night hits it's all she can do to cling to him, every bit of mind she has left intent to keep hips moving, riding with the lack of precision, the lazed, heady grind of her end. and that telling twitch of his cock before he's coating her just wrings her through another silvery throb.
when the two of them come down, him a few trembling moments after her, she can't bring herself to shift off of him, to move, to do anything but be right there with his forearm cradling her back, muscles within her arms and limbs giving a gratified sigh as that iron-wrought tension gives. her mouth's falling against the line of his shoulder, nosing there until she meets that near seamless greeting of flesh and metal — there's a slight rise of the skin, there, the swell of a scar, perhaps, and a single, ginger kiss is left there before she merely rests her cheek against broad muscle.
she's swallowing back a tiny whimper like an after-thought, reveling in the calm of simply being held. )