[She lets out a sigh of relief once the last of her clothes have been discarded, the cool kiss of air sharp against her skin, every touch, however faint, magnified tenfold by how badly she wants him, how deeply some part of her remembers him. It is, all at once, both foreign and familiar, and when she sees the way he stops to admire her, her breath catches in her throat. There's certainly lust in that bright gaze of his, but something else, as well, something else that makes her cheeks flush anew, and she bites at her lower lip as anticipation threatens to be too much, the soft silk of his hair slipping through her long, elegant fingers as he moves.
His lips drag along her abdomen and her muscles twitch beneath them, tense and wanting; she's already felt her belly become molten beneath his touch, and the wait itself threatens to be unbearable— but he is kind, and offers her reprieve, something she craves so desperately that the noise that first escapes her is choked, strained, the soft touch of his lips and expert stroke of his tongue unlike anything in her memory, and her free hand grasps for the bedclothes, clutching and twisting them beneath her fingers as her hips rock upwards against him, eager, and already she feels like she might come apart.]
By the Twelve...
[It feels as delightfully wicked as it does sweet, the heat of his breath triggering another flare of desire, and gods, he clearly knows exactly what he's doing—
His tongue finds where she craves him most and her back archs without warning, pressing her cunt against his mouth as her head is thrown back against the pillow, a sharp cry escaping her as she tugs sharply at the covers, her grip in his hair tightening.]
Hyth—
[She can't even finish his name, not before he wrenches another desperate cry out of her, one that fades into another short, choked noise of pleasure, dangerously close to an open sob.]
no subject
His lips drag along her abdomen and her muscles twitch beneath them, tense and wanting; she's already felt her belly become molten beneath his touch, and the wait itself threatens to be unbearable— but he is kind, and offers her reprieve, something she craves so desperately that the noise that first escapes her is choked, strained, the soft touch of his lips and expert stroke of his tongue unlike anything in her memory, and her free hand grasps for the bedclothes, clutching and twisting them beneath her fingers as her hips rock upwards against him, eager, and already she feels like she might come apart.]
By the Twelve...
[It feels as delightfully wicked as it does sweet, the heat of his breath triggering another flare of desire, and gods, he clearly knows exactly what he's doing—
His tongue finds where she craves him most and her back archs without warning, pressing her cunt against his mouth as her head is thrown back against the pillow, a sharp cry escaping her as she tugs sharply at the covers, her grip in his hair tightening.]
Hyth—
[She can't even finish his name, not before he wrenches another desperate cry out of her, one that fades into another short, choked noise of pleasure, dangerously close to an open sob.]