[ The vice his hands create on her hips restrict her from accomplishing much more than rocking to and fro, helping him to ride out his orgasm, wringing what last drops of pleasure she can from him. It's nearly enough to drag her over the edge with him. Nearly. She shakes and shivers against him in the aftermath, but she hasn't come. It's written in the tense, coiled lines of her body, but she doesn't demand more from him. This isn't about her, after all, and she has already derived an immense, perverse pleasure from watching him abandon his control and lose himself inside of her.
Her face is as sticky with sweat as his own, flushed and glowing. Swiping through where it slicks his hair to his temple, her fingers push back strands, moving across his scalp to soothe him through the comedown period. ]
Good?
[ She asks when she can finally find her voice again, nuzzling into the side of his cheek. ]
no subject
Her face is as sticky with sweat as his own, flushed and glowing. Swiping through where it slicks his hair to his temple, her fingers push back strands, moving across his scalp to soothe him through the comedown period. ]
Good?
[ She asks when she can finally find her voice again, nuzzling into the side of his cheek. ]