[ And she's waiting for that excuse. There's almost a hint of guilt as she watches him struggle so very much, but it quickly just evolves into even more amusement. This is her doing. That unexplained desire to touch him continues to pressure her to keep going, glancing over at the Avatar to keep her own arousal at bay.
Her hand keeps moving, but loose as if she is expecting him to jerk away at any moment. She doesn't want to hurt him, after all. Each slow, careful caress is calculated to make him quiver and hold those utensils even tighter, easily figuring out which strokes make him twitch the most and how she should maneuver her fingers to hear a delightful, suppressed sound. His pleasure is so predictable and she loves every moment of it-- or is it the game that she's playing with him that she loves? It's not quite so clear anymore. ]
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Her hand keeps moving, but loose as if she is expecting him to jerk away at any moment. She doesn't want to hurt him, after all. Each slow, careful caress is calculated to make him quiver and hold those utensils even tighter, easily figuring out which strokes make him twitch the most and how she should maneuver her fingers to hear a delightful, suppressed sound. His pleasure is so predictable and she loves every moment of it-- or is it the game that she's playing with him that she loves? It's not quite so clear anymore. ]