He’d wanted to kiss her and he wants this too, wise enough to hold to the track and pace she’s set to shepherd it through to its peak. No hurry to move on, no breaks in rhythm for the distraction of her mouth on his or her hand in his braies or the burn crawling up the back of his arm.
She knows the rules and so does he.
There’s a thrill of adrenaline ecstasy when he feels it run through her, pride and a needle-tongued tickle of not-quite-fear for him to catch his breath in.
He’s single minded at the robe’s teasing departure, on her, in her, and so on -- slow, savoring strokes that quickly give over into something more confident after he’s scooped to swallow her in a tender kiss, his panting over her ragged with exertion. Afterwards he rolls headlong into her bower, more dead animal than spoon, bony, loose, and warm.
no subject
She knows the rules and so does he.
There’s a thrill of adrenaline ecstasy when he feels it run through her, pride and a needle-tongued tickle of not-quite-fear for him to catch his breath in.
He’s single minded at the robe’s teasing departure, on her, in her, and so on -- slow, savoring strokes that quickly give over into something more confident after he’s scooped to swallow her in a tender kiss, his panting over her ragged with exertion. Afterwards he rolls headlong into her bower, more dead animal than spoon, bony, loose, and warm.
...
Scrtch scrtch sctch, polite claws rake the door.