[ he grants her no relief from her climbing pleasure, from the pleasure that blooms from her previous orgasm (and the one before that). he is well on his way to sending her into her third and fourth. she is practically salivating from it, her fingers threatening to tear his bedspread to shreds, and maybe they would have if he hadn't caught her by surprise as he does, so distracted by the reflection of their bodies in the mirror.
suddenly she's shoved against the bed even more, pressed forward while he joins her, the speed of his movement making his thrust even harder than before. she gasps with an unfettered sort of delight, momentarily shocked from her admiring gaze in the mirror. her forehead presses to the bed as she pants his name only to gasp again when his thumb moves to slide against a forbidden spot, one that is rarely touched and yet... it makes her moan, makes her clench around him tightly. and it seems he set on making her writhe and gasp until she knows no other course of action.
her head tilts once more towards the mirror, unable to help but look, gasping at the sight before her. his arm wrapped around her as he touches the bundle of nerves, his other hand pressed between her cheeks that seem to bounce with every thrust he makes.
it is all too much, seeing it, feeling it. heat courses through her veins at an alarming rate, making her head spin, making her eyes fall shut with a long, low moan. it's then that she comes, with his name on unabashedly on his lips.]
[ yes. it is the summation of all he sees, all he hears, all he feels. he watches her begin to unravel, feels the unsteadiness in her, the tremors that vibrate into his frame. he feels her tighten at his touch, at the boldness of his caress, feels it down to his knees. he pushes her further, because she is perfectly close, maddeningly ripe for it amongst all her moans and gasps, the panting of his name.
he likes how it sounds, so lost in her pleasure, touching him like a physical caress. his. it's his name she intones, his name she calls as she comes, soft and wet and rutting against his thrusts. he nearly folds over her in the ensuing bliss, the clench of her body and the easy way he slides into her nearly too much to take. he feels her coming, his eyes trained, his lips parted as her pleasure reverberates through him, dizzies him with heat that possesses him, renders him useless to all else but her. all else but touching her, fucking her.
he does not realize he is grunting, soft and greedy, with each rock of his cock inside her, not until she is well and truly sated.
yes, he thinks. good. it is what he wanted: her flushed and completed and beautiful.) and he pushes her off his rigid cock to the ruined, mussed sheets with a shove, turns her to her back just as easily. his eyes are dark and longing, stirred despite their steadiness, his breath long and heavy as he takes her hands to stretch out above her head as he stretches out atop her. he takes her lips; he tastes the sweetness of them but once, hovering over her; lashes fluttering as black pupils watch her gaze. he rocks his hips in a strong, nearly painful effort to be inside of her. their bodies collide and he is buried deep, the groan against her lips tapered by the slow, unforgiving force of his next thrust. ]
[ she is lost now. gone is any hope of recovering from this, from pretending that she didn't completely lose herself to the pleasure his body provides. she could claim it's purely physical but that would be a lie, one he'd see right through given the way he's able to push her to her limits.
she doesn't watch herself come, her eyes clench shut when the tidal wave of pleasure sweeps her under. she is helpless to do anything but ride out that wave, her fingers clutching at the sheets beneath her, a dizzying amount of ectasty take hold. and when she finally comes out the other side of it, she's rendered, almost like he is, useless to anything else but his pleasure now.
she can barely move beyond trembling, she doesn't even fight or tense when he pulls himself from her body to roll her over. she sees the darkness in his eyes and knows that it's reflected in hers, that desire, that want, it's still there even after getting her pleasure for the... whatever time. she's lost count how many times she's come now, even if she was counting them merely seconds before. she barely has time to react before he's back to pinning her to the bed in a different fashion, her eyes fluttering open to look at him as he finds his way home, thrusting back into her over-sensitive body.
gasping against his lips, she winces the way it makes her pulsating skin feel, even then, her reaction isn't one to tell him to stop. she is wrecked, a panting, sated mess, her legs flexing, moving so that her feet lay flat on the bed, knees shifting upward as he settles between her thighs. her eyes stay on his for now, almost pleading for him to find his completion, as if she isn't sure she can take much more but knowing that her body is built for this and more.]
[ it was for her, all the pleasure he's given, but that look in her eyes is for him, what has him wanting for nothing and everything more. his fingers splay hers out, each of his pressing along the lengths along hers, the tips against her fingerprints. she is a pool of desire, of flashing longings, the base, pure connection forged between them living and wrought as he takes her in. making his heart beat as his fingers weave with hers, and tighten to clasp.
she is a pool and a pillar both, the one solid thing in this storm they drown in. he fucks her to feed the pulsing of his torturous desire, on the edge always of kissing her pretty, bruised lips so close to his own. he wants to come, his stomach pressing to hers as he strokes into her, the cool dampness of their sweat and coming sticky between them. he wants to come, but more than that, he wants that look in her eyes to last. and it is that reason he cannot though his thighs shake; they tremble as he finds a broken rhythm, gasping quietly, slow and grinding; never enough.
his lips touch her cheek, press a soft kiss there as his body melts against hers, seamlessly rocks. ]
[ Insatiable is the only word that comes to mind now, when she tries to think of how to describe him in this moment. Ruthless and formidable come through next. an unstoppable, hungry force. he keeps moving within her as he tangles their fingers so intimately together.
her eyes flutter at the slide of their fingers as much as they do at the slide of their bodies, uneven and unsteady as the thrusts of his hips are. she shifts beneath him, doing what she can even as she grows sexhausted (that's right sexhausted) beneath him, trying to coax him into the same pleasure she's feeling, to drive him over that edge that he's pushed her over too many times.
her fingers tighten over his, pushing up at his hands, pulling them more over her head as she speaks, tilting her head to force his back towards hers, to push his lips away from her cheeks so that her gaze burn into his.] Let go, Klaus. [ of whatever he's holding on to, she urges him to let go of the resistance to fall and just fall.]
[ it's formidable, such a request, striking deep and sure. even as her body stretches beneath his, curves into his like a cat. it makes his cock ache, his panting breath to quicken, his thrusts to harshen just so; it meet her, to take what she offers. and he cannot think of it: the sweet brush of her lips against his face as she searches for him, the reassurance of her squeezing grasp that makes his pulse start and his cock to throb painfully at the intimacy for more reasons than one, the searing look in her eyes that catches him, that piercing blue and darkest black. and the deepness of what she asks, the vulnerabilities it would incur, to let go of what he truly holds onto: her. his heart, for her. for anyone.
and yet it means nothing, none of it. it means everything as he strokes into her quicker now, pointed with each pinning caress of his body, roused and excited and ravenous. he keeps her eyes with the darkness in his own, releases one of her hands to hold her face.
soft sounds barely leave his throat. his thumb touches the tip of her chin, and his lashes barely flutter low as he barely kisses her, soft and unpressed and chaste. his tongue gently touches her top lip, the bed rocking thunderously under them. it's waves of pleasure, building and shaking him, trembling his fingers, his hand at her face. it's violence, lust, and softness. his hold flexes, finds her throat for something to steady him, to keep her gaze on his as the first grunt spills from his lips. ]
[ she wouldn't look away from him now even if he wasn't forcing her gaze. she doesn't want to miss the way he looks now, now that he's doing as she bids him to, a plea and command both. she wants to see him unravel as he's seen her do so many times, those pools of blue focused keenly on his, darker and more wild. his hand leaves hers free to move, and it does, moving to clutch at his chest, over his heart.
if she could only touch him there. truly touch his heart, make him less of who he is, who he forces himself to become because of paranoia, a centuries worth of hurt and anger. if only he sought redemption like she did, like stefan. she can't be his redemption when he doesn't even want it. it stings, to think that he's more like damon, the sort to do anything to protect his interests ( his main interest being power and his family). anything but give into the lightness that might be hidden in the darkest corners of his heart, waiting to be freed.
her fingers splay out against his skin, laying flat as his fingers find her throat, cutting off some of the air to her lungs, making her gasp, hitting her with enough pleasure that her body trembles around his, quivers and quakes, every one of those descriptive words that you read in dime store novels. she swoons and melts, she pants against his lips as he strokes inside of her with a merciless frenzy, doing as he's been bade to do, losing himself inside of her, so close to what she actually wants and yet so impossibly far.]
[ he gasps, the sound audible, terrible and fearful; he nearly flinches at her holding touch, at the pressure of her fingers, the danger of her palm against his racing heart. she could not have rendered him thus anymore than if she had plunged that hand into his chest, wrapping her hold around the organ to tear it out. he should want to pull away, not submit to it; not what his body does instead: tensing before leaning into the pressure, offering the immortal pounding like a sacrifice that might sway her, should she ever want to take it.
he doesn't want redemption. he doesn't even want love or loyalty, as keenly as he longs for both, stripped away from him at every turn. he wants safety, family, the anxiety for both coiled in his gut. he want simplicities, joys. he wants her kiss, her trembles, her breath as he takes her lips, shaken in his vulnerability. his fingers loosen to move upward, to take her chin, to pin her in punishment and indulgence of his own emotions, under the sway of them. he surges into her, over and over, as if the force might drown out all else. and he comes, muffling his moans until he cannot kiss her any longer, too steeped in the mercilessness of his body's release.
that is what it is: release, and dizzying pleasure only second, his eyes clenching closed as he slows, his head bowed, her name leaving him in strained, lustful anguish.
[ for a moment, she trembles with the fear that she's done something wrong, that what she's done has turned him monstrous, perhaps even lost to her on all counts. he tenses for less than the blink of an eye, cementing for that length of time that she can never touch him there, there just beneath where her palm lays flat.
they want different things, rendering them incompatible, it seems. she wants love and loyalty, she gives it to those who seek to earn it, she wants to give it. she cannot give him the things he wants. there is nothing she can do that he couldn't to make himself safer. and as for family... there was never a chance for that since the moment katherine smothered the life out of her. not that he seeks that from her anyways. either thing.
perhaps simplicities she can do, even if she prefers things more complicated, needs them that way. still, she moves with him as best she can, returns the brutal kiss he gives until he comes undone above her with sounds that send fire up the length of her spine.
her eyes flutter only when his close, shutting briefly as he says her name that way. she cannot know the true anguish behind it, whether she has caused it or if it is simply from the relief of finally giving into to well-chased pleasure.
how could she accept his heart when he could never give it to her freely? without strings or conditions? without bitter fractures that she cannot hope to ever mend? ]
[ if all he is to her is broken, then there is no reason for affections to linger. she wants for what she would not take from him, wants for what she would not trust. (he is a monster, no matter how wanting he is, how soft she can render him.) he is not simple, unseeing, unknowing. he knows. he knows despite her attractions, despite how she cares for him, despite the connection that thrums between them, there are places they do not meet. because he adores every one of them about her, despises them with sorrow.
she can touch his heart. she is, and his hand moves to his chest to press her hand there, to hold it tightly in his grasp to the heave of his chest as he lifts his head to kiss her again, soft and full and wet.
[ it is too dangerous, the waters they tread now. in the end, they will both end up hurt (and who can say which of them will be marred more). the common ground for them now is sex, the passion that is fueled between them, the attraction that remains unspoken besides that day in the woods, even now she cannot quite admit it aloud, should she be asked. it is unfair and wicked, the truth of it. and yet, she longs for it, to touch his heart the way he lets her now.
it makes her own heart beat wildly, spreading compassion and the wish that somehow those spaces between them could narrow, that the fractured bits of their own hearts that keep them apart now could somehow be healed (they cannot be, they are too wounded).
she kisses him back, tilts her head to give him back some of that emotion, her other hand moving tighten her grasp of his before she pulls her fingers away, moving to find the back of his head to hold.]
[ he knows it is not the end. even if she were to vanish tomorrow, even if they had never met here, he knows there are lifetimes in which they could use to bridge any gaps, to find any peace. eventually, perhaps. he can want that, in the back of his mind; he can want, as unfair and wicked as this is now.
she kisses him and he kisses her back, pulling in a heady breath as she shifts, as he follows to pour just as much ardency, just as much tenderness into the caress. his arms frames her shoulders, knuckles reaching to brush the pink of her cheeks. and when he pulls back there is no fear but that of anxiety, just the smallest bit of awe that part his lips, affection and warmth and kindness in his eyes. ]
[ time will tell what this will lead to. if this only bring them trouble or deepen whatever bond is between them. the kiss is intoxicating as it is worrying on that count. her eyes only opening when he pulls back to look at her with such a look, one that makes her heart stutter in her chest.] Oh no you don't, [ she murmurs playfully, intent on keeping this lighter than it actually is. She chases his lips for another kiss, arching her neck off the bed so that she can accomplish such a task. her fingers crawl up his neck to slide through his hair, caress over his scalp.
she relents after a moment, laying back against the bed, a vision of sexual satisfaction, skin ruddy, lips bruised, hair tussled. she lets out a contented sigh before her hands fall back against the bed in the pursuit of being lazy, sliding down over his arms first before they find their rest on either side of her head, resting on a bed of messy curls.]
[ he knows what she is doing, knows what she seeks with her kiss. he lets her take that leave, lets her come to him, pressing his mouth to hers only after a moment. it's soft, softer than even before, his head tilted just so, leaned by her traveling hands.
how beautiful she is, in the aftermath. he smiles watching her uncoil from him, adoring and wicked both. only after a moment does he lift himself off her, settle beside her with a hand at her side and an arm tucking below her head. he pulls her gently and loosely, palm against her ribs, fingers curled over her torso, into his embrace, drops his face to her shoulder. his voice is thick with amusement. ] I daresay that was to your liking.
[ she stretches like a cat would once he rolls off of her, in that brief moment before he pulls her to him. she stretches her arms and legs, curls and uncurls her toes before letting out a lengthy, lazy sigh. then she's pulled in his direction, rolling onto her side as she is pressed to him.
she lets out another contented sound at his not!question, one that's tempered by a yawn then amusement of her own.] I think you know the answer to that. [ as if the multiple orgasms weren't proof enough, she seems much more cheerful than she did when she first arrived.] But yes, in case you couldn't tell.
[ he likes the grace with which she lounges, his eyes running the length of her body, his head dipped to brush his nose against the line of her bare shoulder. while she settles in repose, he does the same, tangling their legs, hooking their ankles as he stretches them out.
he likes settling with her, if only for the moment. he likes her endearing yawn, and her retorts, and above all, her content. he moves along her skin, up her neck, and kisses tenderly, lingeringly behind her ear before he begins to truly relax.
her hair is his pillow, draped over his arm, and so he presses his cheek and face to it and to the back of her head, to her scent, with a sigh. ] I believe that I and my neighbors could attest.
[ she gives him a pointed look when he basically accuses her of being loud.] Please. I wasn't loud at all. [ he's teasing her, of course, probably. so she just turns her head away from his so he can't reach her lips at all, as punishment despite how lovely it was to have him kissing along her neck and shoulder.]
[ perhaps she wasn't loud, but she was certainly noisy. he sees no reason to tease and argue the point, merely smirking and catching her eyes before she draws her gaze from his with a pointedness that not difficult to discern. so his thumb skirts over her ribs, brushes the soft underside of her breast before he smooths a touch up her sternum to lay his hand about her neck, to tighten his arms around her. ] You could be. [ he promises, whispers it, pressing his face into the curve of her jaw, running his hand back down, between her breasts, over her tummy. ]
[ she huffs out a soft breath when he touches her as he does, when he insinuates that he might intend on making her be loud. turning her head towards him a bit--] You're impossible. [ but really, he's insatiable, completely so, if his hand intends on going lower. her own moves to halt his, teasingly.]
[ klaus is smiling just so, knowing despite her words and teasing, the idea he might want more excites her. and in truth her sweet slights could easily begin to excite him too. his exhale is carried out with a soft rumble of his playful displeasure, but she has already granted him plenty. she has turned to face him just enough, and he need only reach for her mouth to have it. he kisses what he can: the corner, softly and with possession, a coaxing for her to turn her lips to him completely. ]
[ she may be excited by the prospect of more but her body may protest the idea of it should he start. even a vampire needs time to recover. her eyes flutter when his lips brush against the corner of her mouth then again when he tries to coax her to twist some in his embrace. she hums softly before turning towards him a bit more so he can have what he wants.
[ even immortal hybrids need to recover, and the pleasure he takes from the teasing, from the pliancy of her kiss and the turning of her body is without that specific desire in mind. (well. not entirely.) it is little more than taking the moment to touch her skin, to kiss her, to feel the contentment of this, and the seduction of any future dalliances. whether that be within the hour or a much longer a wait.
his lips part; he sighs, chasing her hum, and slides his tongue into their kiss as he shifts slightly atop her. his hand reaches down, smooths between her legs for but a moment before cup a breast, his kissing slowing, his fingers pinching her nipple and pulling it gently, dragging it down until it slips from his grasp. ]
[ she half-laughs, half-sighs into that kiss when his hand wanders lower, sliding between het thighs for a brief moment. but just as her hand moves to push his away, he moves it to her breast. but a moment later, she makes a soft sound of protest into that dizzying kiss, the way he toys with her breast, her nipple.] Mmm... cut it out-- [ she murmurs against his lips, trying to catch his hand with hers to thread their fingers together instead, shifting beneath him to kiss a little more.]
[ he lets her take his hand, halt his progress and command him. it's done with a smile against her lips, one that nearly disrupts their kiss. he cannot help it, the amusement at her little fights. it is as warm and easy as how he curls his fingers through hers, holds her hand, and murmurs to her, laughter in his voice. ] Forgive me. I didn't realize you were spent. I suppose I shall wait to work on your volume. [ that last part is more a promise than a jest. and he welcomes the press of her body, the sheer comfort of it wedged against his, the weight of her head on his arm. he kisses her then, as long as she likes. ]
I am very spent, [ she says selfishly, satisfied with herself and the way he's made her feel. not that he hadn't gotten anything from it himself, of course. as it is, she keeps her hand in his, even after she's satisfied that he'll stop trying for more, for now. and even as he kisses her, she keeps their fingers tangled.] So we can spare your, apparently, neighbors with super hearing.
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suddenly she's shoved against the bed even more, pressed forward while he joins her, the speed of his movement making his thrust even harder than before. she gasps with an unfettered sort of delight, momentarily shocked from her admiring gaze in the mirror. her forehead presses to the bed as she pants his name only to gasp again when his thumb moves to slide against a forbidden spot, one that is rarely touched and yet... it makes her moan, makes her clench around him tightly. and it seems he set on making her writhe and gasp until she knows no other course of action.
her head tilts once more towards the mirror, unable to help but look, gasping at the sight before her. his arm wrapped around her as he touches the bundle of nerves, his other hand pressed between her cheeks that seem to bounce with every thrust he makes.
it is all too much, seeing it, feeling it. heat courses through her veins at an alarming rate, making her head spin, making her eyes fall shut with a long, low moan. it's then that she comes, with his name on unabashedly on his lips.]
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he likes how it sounds, so lost in her pleasure, touching him like a physical caress. his. it's his name she intones, his name she calls as she comes, soft and wet and rutting against his thrusts. he nearly folds over her in the ensuing bliss, the clench of her body and the easy way he slides into her nearly too much to take. he feels her coming, his eyes trained, his lips parted as her pleasure reverberates through him, dizzies him with heat that possesses him, renders him useless to all else but her. all else but touching her, fucking her.
he does not realize he is grunting, soft and greedy, with each rock of his cock inside her, not until she is well and truly sated.
yes, he thinks. good. it is what he wanted: her flushed and completed and beautiful.) and he pushes her off his rigid cock to the ruined, mussed sheets with a shove, turns her to her back just as easily. his eyes are dark and longing, stirred despite their steadiness, his breath long and heavy as he takes her hands to stretch out above her head as he stretches out atop her. he takes her lips; he tastes the sweetness of them but once, hovering over her; lashes fluttering as black pupils watch her gaze. he rocks his hips in a strong, nearly painful effort to be inside of her. their bodies collide and he is buried deep, the groan against her lips tapered by the slow, unforgiving force of his next thrust. ]
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she doesn't watch herself come, her eyes clench shut when the tidal wave of pleasure sweeps her under. she is helpless to do anything but ride out that wave, her fingers clutching at the sheets beneath her, a dizzying amount of ectasty take hold. and when she finally comes out the other side of it, she's rendered, almost like he is, useless to anything else but his pleasure now.
she can barely move beyond trembling, she doesn't even fight or tense when he pulls himself from her body to roll her over. she sees the darkness in his eyes and knows that it's reflected in hers, that desire, that want, it's still there even after getting her pleasure for the... whatever time. she's lost count how many times she's come now, even if she was counting them merely seconds before. she barely has time to react before he's back to pinning her to the bed in a different fashion, her eyes fluttering open to look at him as he finds his way home, thrusting back into her over-sensitive body.
gasping against his lips, she winces the way it makes her pulsating skin feel, even then, her reaction isn't one to tell him to stop. she is wrecked, a panting, sated mess, her legs flexing, moving so that her feet lay flat on the bed, knees shifting upward as he settles between her thighs. her eyes stay on his for now, almost pleading for him to find his completion, as if she isn't sure she can take much more but knowing that her body is built for this and more.]
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she is a pool and a pillar both, the one solid thing in this storm they drown in. he fucks her to feed the pulsing of his torturous desire, on the edge always of kissing her pretty, bruised lips so close to his own. he wants to come, his stomach pressing to hers as he strokes into her, the cool dampness of their sweat and coming sticky between them. he wants to come, but more than that, he wants that look in her eyes to last. and it is that reason he cannot though his thighs shake; they tremble as he finds a broken rhythm, gasping quietly, slow and grinding; never enough.
his lips touch her cheek, press a soft kiss there as his body melts against hers, seamlessly rocks. ]
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her eyes flutter at the slide of their fingers as much as they do at the slide of their bodies, uneven and unsteady as the thrusts of his hips are. she shifts beneath him, doing what she can even as she grows sexhausted (that's right sexhausted) beneath him, trying to coax him into the same pleasure she's feeling, to drive him over that edge that he's pushed her over too many times.
her fingers tighten over his, pushing up at his hands, pulling them more over her head as she speaks, tilting her head to force his back towards hers, to push his lips away from her cheeks so that her gaze burn into his.] Let go, Klaus. [ of whatever he's holding on to, she urges him to let go of the resistance to fall and just fall.]
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and yet it means nothing, none of it. it means everything as he strokes into her quicker now, pointed with each pinning caress of his body, roused and excited and ravenous. he keeps her eyes with the darkness in his own, releases one of her hands to hold her face.
soft sounds barely leave his throat. his thumb touches the tip of her chin, and his lashes barely flutter low as he barely kisses her, soft and unpressed and chaste. his tongue gently touches her top lip, the bed rocking thunderously under them. it's waves of pleasure, building and shaking him, trembling his fingers, his hand at her face. it's violence, lust, and softness. his hold flexes, finds her throat for something to steady him, to keep her gaze on his as the first grunt spills from his lips. ]
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if she could only touch him there. truly touch his heart, make him less of who he is, who he forces himself to become because of paranoia, a centuries worth of hurt and anger. if only he sought redemption like she did, like stefan. she can't be his redemption when he doesn't even want it. it stings, to think that he's more like damon, the sort to do anything to protect his interests ( his main interest being power and his family). anything but give into the lightness that might be hidden in the darkest corners of his heart, waiting to be freed.
her fingers splay out against his skin, laying flat as his fingers find her throat, cutting off some of the air to her lungs, making her gasp, hitting her with enough pleasure that her body trembles around his, quivers and quakes, every one of those descriptive words that you read in dime store novels. she swoons and melts, she pants against his lips as he strokes inside of her with a merciless frenzy, doing as he's been bade to do, losing himself inside of her, so close to what she actually wants and yet so impossibly far.]
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he doesn't want redemption. he doesn't even want love or loyalty, as keenly as he longs for both, stripped away from him at every turn. he wants safety, family, the anxiety for both coiled in his gut. he want simplicities, joys. he wants her kiss, her trembles, her breath as he takes her lips, shaken in his vulnerability. his fingers loosen to move upward, to take her chin, to pin her in punishment and indulgence of his own emotions, under the sway of them. he surges into her, over and over, as if the force might drown out all else. and he comes, muffling his moans until he cannot kiss her any longer, too steeped in the mercilessness of his body's release.
that is what it is: release, and dizzying pleasure only second, his eyes clenching closed as he slows, his head bowed, her name leaving him in strained, lustful anguish.
she would never accept his heart. ]
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they want different things, rendering them incompatible, it seems. she wants love and loyalty, she gives it to those who seek to earn it, she wants to give it. she cannot give him the things he wants. there is nothing she can do that he couldn't to make himself safer. and as for family... there was never a chance for that since the moment katherine smothered the life out of her. not that he seeks that from her anyways. either thing.
perhaps simplicities she can do, even if she prefers things more complicated, needs them that way. still, she moves with him as best she can, returns the brutal kiss he gives until he comes undone above her with sounds that send fire up the length of her spine.
her eyes flutter only when his close, shutting briefly as he says her name that way. she cannot know the true anguish behind it, whether she has caused it or if it is simply from the relief of finally giving into to well-chased pleasure.
how could she accept his heart when he could never give it to her freely? without strings or conditions? without bitter fractures that she cannot hope to ever mend? ]
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she can touch his heart. she is, and his hand moves to his chest to press her hand there, to hold it tightly in his grasp to the heave of his chest as he lifts his head to kiss her again, soft and full and wet.
there is no reason for this, for them. and yet. ]
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it makes her own heart beat wildly, spreading compassion and the wish that somehow those spaces between them could narrow, that the fractured bits of their own hearts that keep them apart now could somehow be healed (they cannot be, they are too wounded).
she kisses him back, tilts her head to give him back some of that emotion, her other hand moving tighten her grasp of his before she pulls her fingers away, moving to find the back of his head to hold.]
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she kisses him and he kisses her back, pulling in a heady breath as she shifts, as he follows to pour just as much ardency, just as much tenderness into the caress. his arms frames her shoulders, knuckles reaching to brush the pink of her cheeks. and when he pulls back there is no fear but that of anxiety, just the smallest bit of awe that part his lips, affection and warmth and kindness in his eyes. ]
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she relents after a moment, laying back against the bed, a vision of sexual satisfaction, skin ruddy, lips bruised, hair tussled. she lets out a contented sigh before her hands fall back against the bed in the pursuit of being lazy, sliding down over his arms first before they find their rest on either side of her head, resting on a bed of messy curls.]
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how beautiful she is, in the aftermath. he smiles watching her uncoil from him, adoring and wicked both. only after a moment does he lift himself off her, settle beside her with a hand at her side and an arm tucking below her head. he pulls her gently and loosely, palm against her ribs, fingers curled over her torso, into his embrace, drops his face to her shoulder. his voice is thick with amusement. ] I daresay that was to your liking.
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she lets out another contented sound at his not!question, one that's tempered by a yawn then amusement of her own.] I think you know the answer to that. [ as if the multiple orgasms weren't proof enough, she seems much more cheerful than she did when she first arrived.] But yes, in case you couldn't tell.
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he likes settling with her, if only for the moment. he likes her endearing yawn, and her retorts, and above all, her content. he moves along her skin, up her neck, and kisses tenderly, lingeringly behind her ear before he begins to truly relax.
her hair is his pillow, draped over his arm, and so he presses his cheek and face to it and to the back of her head, to her scent, with a sigh. ] I believe that I and my neighbors could attest.
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just this once.
or any time after]no subject
his lips part; he sighs, chasing her hum, and slides his tongue into their kiss as he shifts slightly atop her. his hand reaches down, smooths between her legs for but a moment before cup a breast, his kissing slowing, his fingers pinching her nipple and pulling it gently, dragging it down until it slips from his grasp. ]
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