[ this, at least, is not unfamiliar. being splayed out on her back, the hesitant cup of a palm against her skin, fingertips tracing through to catch the bare hint of arousal. she has done this part herself, though rarely with such patience or purpose, typically at night out of instinct alone, a hand slipping down to rub off some itch that gradually ebbed away.
alone, she simply got bored of it, and forced herself to stop. there was little pleasure in it then, no experience in what it could be encouraging her to try.
now, though, she can feel the difference. her body arches into it without any encouragement from her mind, hips arching up when his hand slips beneath the waistband of her trousers as if to make it easier for him to slide them off altogether, and though she is surprised that he doesn't, she doesn't push the issue.
she's too busy trying not to rock too eagerly against him, first his and then her own bottom lip caught between her teeth as a rumbling sound echoes in her throat, smothered by a groan. ]
That feels — [ good, yes, but. not enough. just the barest hint of a promise. she's not good at waiting. ]
no subject
alone, she simply got bored of it, and forced herself to stop. there was little pleasure in it then, no experience in what it could be encouraging her to try.
now, though, she can feel the difference. her body arches into it without any encouragement from her mind, hips arching up when his hand slips beneath the waistband of her trousers as if to make it easier for him to slide them off altogether, and though she is surprised that he doesn't, she doesn't push the issue.
she's too busy trying not to rock too eagerly against him, first his and then her own bottom lip caught between her teeth as a rumbling sound echoes in her throat, smothered by a groan. ]
That feels — [ good, yes, but. not enough. just the barest hint of a promise. she's not good at waiting. ]