[He groans when her hips move and her body answers him and his hand shifts from her hip to the small of her back, fingers spreading, pressing her down into him as he presses up into her from below. Her lips are liquid fire, leaving a burning trail across his skin even after she's moved on and her fingertips dance electric shivers over his skin where they touch.
His. This is his. All his. Because she's giving it to him.
The bite earns a sharp inhale that turns into something somewhere between a pleased chuckle and a throaty moan and his hand slips out of her hair to stroke down her back, back up, over her shoulder, down to curve her hip and then one long leg as far as he can trace it, long painting strokes of his palm and fingers, exploring. She makes his head hazy, fills his blood with heat and he turns his head, nuzzling her hair, against her temple and forehead, lips brushing.]
More than the stars. [He agrees it quietly, voice husky. And his hips move under her, keeping that pace she asked for but adding a little swivel when he's pushed up into her, friction and heat.] More than rain.
no subject
His. This is his. All his. Because she's giving it to him.
The bite earns a sharp inhale that turns into something somewhere between a pleased chuckle and a throaty moan and his hand slips out of her hair to stroke down her back, back up, over her shoulder, down to curve her hip and then one long leg as far as he can trace it, long painting strokes of his palm and fingers, exploring. She makes his head hazy, fills his blood with heat and he turns his head, nuzzling her hair, against her temple and forehead, lips brushing.]
More than the stars. [He agrees it quietly, voice husky. And his hips move under her, keeping that pace she asked for but adding a little swivel when he's pushed up into her, friction and heat.] More than rain.