His breathing settles as she starts to move her hands and fingers over his skin, the sparks clearing from the corners of his vision, his focus returning to the feelings her touches bring to his body.
(It is her fingertips lightly on his face as she traces over his features that he finds the most erotic, for reasons he isn't entirely certain - perhaps it is in part because he feels as if with her, he does not have to hide his reactions, does not have to shift his expressions to fit a certain 'mold' or 'status quo'. He is free to simply be himself.)
This is not frantic, this is not frenzied. (Not that there is anything about frantic or frenzied sex that he dislikes - there is a time and place for it. But this is different, and he likes it very much.) This is calculated and precise, detail-oriented. Subtle shifts of his hips beneath her body, his back lifting off the blanket as she grazes her fingertips over his collarbones.
His own hands seek to trace patterns on her wrists and forearms, not interrupting her actions, just adding to them if she'll allow it.
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(It is her fingertips lightly on his face as she traces over his features that he finds the most erotic, for reasons he isn't entirely certain - perhaps it is in part because he feels as if with her, he does not have to hide his reactions, does not have to shift his expressions to fit a certain 'mold' or 'status quo'. He is free to simply be himself.)
This is not frantic, this is not frenzied. (Not that there is anything about frantic or frenzied sex that he dislikes - there is a time and place for it. But this is different, and he likes it very much.) This is calculated and precise, detail-oriented. Subtle shifts of his hips beneath her body, his back lifting off the blanket as she grazes her fingertips over his collarbones.
His own hands seek to trace patterns on her wrists and forearms, not interrupting her actions, just adding to them if she'll allow it.