[ Eased onto the mattress, she sinks further into it as he lowers himself onto her, and she allows his body to remain flush against hers as her thigh and knee continues to slide up between his to prolong a grind for him. Between their bodies, when she's able, she makes quick work of the buttons of his dress shirt down to his pants, only to then fumble with his belt as he touches her with renewed pressure. ] Th...Then-- [ A gasp, as he flicks a thumb over her nipple, causing her whole body to go taught against him. Her legs press together and then spread apart, making room between their hips-- the perfect opportunity for her hand. Belt. She's working on that belt. ] Then it is. It is. [ What is she even saying anymore? She doesn't know, because she's beginning to find this far too distracting.
The texture of his hands changes as he grows and lives daily, and there's not one moment where they ever feel the same to her. She's often wondered if it's because of how skin heals upon itself or that, perhaps, he's training with different weapons during different days, refining callouses or making new ones. To her, it means a uniqueness whenever she's able to hold his hands... and whenever she's able to feel his hands like this, upon her, padding over her skin and teasing her, causing her to forget all aforementioned wondering.
She begins to moan in earnest, her body growing hotter, arching up into his chest as he kisses upon that sensitive spot of her neck-- that spot even more sensitive than her breasts, and she trembles against him. Breathy, quicker pants begin to pass from her lips one by one.
Whenever she unclasps that belt and manages to get the front of his pants undone, she's determined to not leave him wanting with a proper stroke of hand upon his erection, feeling his shape from base to tip. ]
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The texture of his hands changes as he grows and lives daily, and there's not one moment where they ever feel the same to her. She's often wondered if it's because of how skin heals upon itself or that, perhaps, he's training with different weapons during different days, refining callouses or making new ones. To her, it means a uniqueness whenever she's able to hold his hands... and whenever she's able to feel his hands like this, upon her, padding over her skin and teasing her, causing her to forget all aforementioned wondering.
She begins to moan in earnest, her body growing hotter, arching up into his chest as he kisses upon that sensitive spot of her neck-- that spot even more sensitive than her breasts, and she trembles against him. Breathy, quicker pants begin to pass from her lips one by one.
Whenever she unclasps that belt and manages to get the front of his pants undone, she's determined to not leave him wanting with a proper stroke of hand upon his erection, feeling his shape from base to tip. ]