Part of him would protest her words of don't worry about me, but he knows she is merely speaking with more logic than his brain would prefer in his moment, this space. He wants to make her come apart for him, but she is in control, riding him in such a way, giving him pleasure in a manner that he has never found with another partner (that he can remember) before.
"Won't take much--"
And it doesn't. Letting himself relax beneath her, he allows himself simply to feel her body, allows himself to listen - there are no distractions in this space, his focus entirely on her body and his body - and then he lets his control falter, slip further.
"Yours--" is all he manages to gasp out, the rest of his words lost in a pleading, desperate cry with his release, waves of pleasure overtaking him as he falls apart beneath her.
(He has the enough presence of mind to quickly bring his one of his hands up to his torso, covering one of hers that she has firmly braced against him. Tangling their fingers together, grasping for something solid to hold - something to keep him here.)
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-04-01 04:27 am (UTC)"Won't take much--"
And it doesn't. Letting himself relax beneath her, he allows himself simply to feel her body, allows himself to listen - there are no distractions in this space, his focus entirely on her body and his body - and then he lets his control falter, slip further.
"Yours--" is all he manages to gasp out, the rest of his words lost in a pleading, desperate cry with his release, waves of pleasure overtaking him as he falls apart beneath her.
(He has the enough presence of mind to quickly bring his one of his hands up to his torso, covering one of hers that she has firmly braced against him. Tangling their fingers together, grasping for something solid to hold - something to keep him here.)
Your mate.