Little does she realize how this is actually affecting him more than any of their previous heated exchanges. This slow buildup, this slow swell of emotions like a storm... It's beautiful, but agonizing. He's starting to understand why she might have preferred the rougher, faster pace. At least then they can be lost in the throes of passion, to just hunt and chase that physical high without having to be lost in the depths of their true wants and emotions. To act without restraint, without thought. And now, here he is, finally getting a taste of that deeper meaning between them he had wanted—but it's only made him want it more.
He always considered himself a patient man, but how are her slow, careful movements fraying that patience faster than what they did last night? Is it because of that emotional weight? That conscious effort to hold back? Knowing that she's trying her best to meet him part way? That somehow all of this is more endearing that she probably intends?
Fuck if he knows. All he does know is that nuzzle to his jaw, her hands and nails at his chest, is doing something to him that he can't explain. It's like she's teasing him without meaning to—and it's only worsened when she encourages him to go further. It's enough to make him groan in quiet frustration as he has to stop himself from biting her lip, letting his teeth just graze it instead.]
...You're making this really difficult.
[A rough admittance as his eyes flick to hers, unable to hide the smoldering heat of desire that continues to burn. A heat that flows from his fingertips that run down her neck, a small spark of his levin brushing over her skin before his hand slides down her shoulder, pushing the fabric down a little before retreating, disappearing only to appear right at the center of her cleavage where the strings he had messed with remain undone. There his fingers hook over the center and tug down.
no subject
Little does she realize how this is actually affecting him more than any of their previous heated exchanges. This slow buildup, this slow swell of emotions like a storm... It's beautiful, but agonizing. He's starting to understand why she might have preferred the rougher, faster pace. At least then they can be lost in the throes of passion, to just hunt and chase that physical high without having to be lost in the depths of their true wants and emotions. To act without restraint, without thought. And now, here he is, finally getting a taste of that deeper meaning between them he had wanted—but it's only made him want it more.
He always considered himself a patient man, but how are her slow, careful movements fraying that patience faster than what they did last night? Is it because of that emotional weight? That conscious effort to hold back? Knowing that she's trying her best to meet him part way? That somehow all of this is more endearing that she probably intends?
Fuck if he knows. All he does know is that nuzzle to his jaw, her hands and nails at his chest, is doing something to him that he can't explain. It's like she's teasing him without meaning to—and it's only worsened when she encourages him to go further. It's enough to make him groan in quiet frustration as he has to stop himself from biting her lip, letting his teeth just graze it instead.]
...You're making this really difficult.
[A rough admittance as his eyes flick to hers, unable to hide the smoldering heat of desire that continues to burn. A heat that flows from his fingertips that run down her neck, a small spark of his levin brushing over her skin before his hand slides down her shoulder, pushing the fabric down a little before retreating, disappearing only to appear right at the center of her cleavage where the strings he had messed with remain undone. There his fingers hook over the center and tug down.
Firmly.]