[ The shift in their positions is unexpected but welcomed, and when he plunges back into her, her entire back arches against the mattress as heat twists and coils through her limbs. Pleasure ricochets throughout her as her body, causing it to tense up against him, each moment pushing her closer to the brink. Her thighs, how around him, press into his sides, and her hips move to meet his with each thrust, seeking to strike against each sensitive part of him. her hands find his hair, his shoulders, his sides, in a desperate hug as he bends over her to take a breast into his mouth, and she gasps his name again, cutting each syllable with a breathless pant, another, then another as they build a rhythm into something that causes her to ache and sweat, to think only of more, of him, of how he feels inside her, how he moves inside her, how this position grants more force to connect with her.
Every time he kisses her, it feels like fire, and her hands cling over his body greedily, nails raking in a tight hold over his skin. With both of her legs around him, she bucks her hips to take him in, angling them in a way that allows him to practically glide between her legs, sinking and thrusting and pulling back and returning to hot and wet heat in a way that she loves. In her most desperate of moments as they continue to connect, she finds one of his hands to take and squeeze. This is them, together; this is a moment that no one else can share but them, and it's beautiful and messy and exhilarating.
He'll feel this all for himself through their connection, the movement, the friction, the pleasure it causes her and the way her body responds to the fire he's ignited, building and building until it all becomes too much. The more she seeks breaks apart, the pressure snapping within her, and it's a torrent of pleasure let loose. Pyra's back arches dramatically against the bed, strained and lost to heat that electrifies her. Her voice staggers as her hips lift then lock into place against his, trembling and bucking twice as if to prolong the white-hot pleasure into which she sinks. Hooking her ankles behind his back, she calls his name-- lust still low and thick upon her tongue, but lovingly, gratefully-- into his ear. ]
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Every time he kisses her, it feels like fire, and her hands cling over his body greedily, nails raking in a tight hold over his skin. With both of her legs around him, she bucks her hips to take him in, angling them in a way that allows him to practically glide between her legs, sinking and thrusting and pulling back and returning to hot and wet heat in a way that she loves. In her most desperate of moments as they continue to connect, she finds one of his hands to take and squeeze. This is them, together; this is a moment that no one else can share but them, and it's beautiful and messy and exhilarating.
He'll feel this all for himself through their connection, the movement, the friction, the pleasure it causes her and the way her body responds to the fire he's ignited, building and building until it all becomes too much. The more she seeks breaks apart, the pressure snapping within her, and it's a torrent of pleasure let loose. Pyra's back arches dramatically against the bed, strained and lost to heat that electrifies her. Her voice staggers as her hips lift then lock into place against his, trembling and bucking twice as if to prolong the white-hot pleasure into which she sinks. Hooking her ankles behind his back, she calls his name-- lust still low and thick upon her tongue, but lovingly, gratefully-- into his ear. ]