[ When she slips herself into his lap to bracket him between her thighs, knees gently dipping into the mattress beneath them, it takes everything in him not to just wrap his arms around her and kiss her until they both need to break for air — but right now, in this position, there's no way she doesn't realize the obvious effect this is having on him, the hard line steadily growing harder and practically nudging against her inner thigh every time she so much as shifts her weight to peel off another layer.
And then they're both on even footing in terms of the amount of clothing left between them, but he doesn't even have time to let it sink in, really, before she's kissing him again, before his hand rises to cup her face, thumb sweeping against the high curve of her cheekbone, and he leaves his want there, in the way it builds naturally between them, the subtle tilt of heads that deepens it before she breaks away to speak.
Next, he thinks, it's about making her feel good, and he's got enough knowledge accumulated from prior moments almost exactly like this one, but not quite, to know that if he drops his lips to the slope of her shoulder, kisses his way along that freckled juncture and then descends further to continue over the plane of her chest as his hand simultaneously sweeps upward to cup beneath, to urge one sensitive swell up towards his mouth to kiss, to part his lips for a tongue to slowly swirl over —
— well, he'll just get to relearn exactly what sounds she'll make when he does all of that, unable to withhold his own sigh at the scent, the taste of her skin, and knowing he'll only keep making his way down the length of her if she tells him to keep going. ]
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And then they're both on even footing in terms of the amount of clothing left between them, but he doesn't even have time to let it sink in, really, before she's kissing him again, before his hand rises to cup her face, thumb sweeping against the high curve of her cheekbone, and he leaves his want there, in the way it builds naturally between them, the subtle tilt of heads that deepens it before she breaks away to speak.
Next, he thinks, it's about making her feel good, and he's got enough knowledge accumulated from prior moments almost exactly like this one, but not quite, to know that if he drops his lips to the slope of her shoulder, kisses his way along that freckled juncture and then descends further to continue over the plane of her chest as his hand simultaneously sweeps upward to cup beneath, to urge one sensitive swell up towards his mouth to kiss, to part his lips for a tongue to slowly swirl over —
— well, he'll just get to relearn exactly what sounds she'll make when he does all of that, unable to withhold his own sigh at the scent, the taste of her skin, and knowing he'll only keep making his way down the length of her if she tells him to keep going. ]