really appreciates the view as she crawls back up him - and then moves even more to lean over him and stretch. If he wasn't trying very hard to let her set the pace and decide what happened next, that would have been the end, because having two incredible breasts hanging right over a man's face was really asking for too much restraint on a good day. And - it's been a very long, very well behaved night for Shiro already.
But she slips back down before his last bit of restraint gives way and he's pretty sure his heart just might pop with the sensory overload as she starts trailing kisses and skin and hair down over his body again. The sound he makes comes out between locked teeth, something that's almost aware of the humor, something that's definitely a growl of frustration, and something that's more than a little moan of arousal. His hands won't stay still on her, stroking, brushing, fingers pressing. But he finally does let her go when she's across his thighs again, throat dry, blood like wild fire under his skin, heart beating in his ears. Because he needs to prop his elbows under him so that he can lever himself up just a little, just enough to look at her.
She looks, truth be known, like pure sin.
The sound he makes at her question though is either a laugh or a cough and either way it comes out tight through his throat.]
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really appreciates the view as she crawls back up him - and then moves even more to lean over him and stretch. If he wasn't trying very hard to let her set the pace and decide what happened next, that would have been the end, because having two incredible breasts hanging right over a man's face was really asking for too much restraint on a good day. And - it's been a very long, very well behaved night for Shiro already.
But she slips back down before his last bit of restraint gives way and he's pretty sure his heart just might pop with the sensory overload as she starts trailing kisses and skin and hair down over his body again. The sound he makes comes out between locked teeth, something that's almost aware of the humor, something that's definitely a growl of frustration, and something that's more than a little moan of arousal. His hands won't stay still on her, stroking, brushing, fingers pressing. But he finally does let her go when she's across his thighs again, throat dry, blood like wild fire under his skin, heart beating in his ears. Because he needs to prop his elbows under him so that he can lever himself up just a little, just enough to look at her.
She looks, truth be known, like pure sin.
The sound he makes at her question though is either a laugh or a cough and either way it comes out tight through his throat.]
You're killing me, sweetheart.