[ it's not a coy question, or even intended to be a flirtatious evasion; it's a simple response that asks for a genuine answer. she doesn't know. as hard as she'd come apart, with each pass of his lips against her jaw and each trail of his fingertips against her skin, an echo of that earlier need begins to build again in her belly. not quite as desperate now, not so pent-up, but it's arousal and desire all the same, not entirely sated by an admittedly rather rushed coupling. he touches her now, and she wants to feel him again, actually commit all of those sensations to memory. ]
I don't want you to stop.
[ he could, she knows, but she doesn't want him to. she can no longer smell the perfumes that had pushed her into that first embrace, but the aftershocks still linger; even as his hands skim gently over her chest, the urge to nudge him forward is there, to step past slow and sweet into something more aggressive, something that might quell the ache between her legs as she shifts against the sheets. ]
no subject
[ it's not a coy question, or even intended to be a flirtatious evasion; it's a simple response that asks for a genuine answer. she doesn't know. as hard as she'd come apart, with each pass of his lips against her jaw and each trail of his fingertips against her skin, an echo of that earlier need begins to build again in her belly. not quite as desperate now, not so pent-up, but it's arousal and desire all the same, not entirely sated by an admittedly rather rushed coupling. he touches her now, and she wants to feel him again, actually commit all of those sensations to memory. ]
I don't want you to stop.
[ he could, she knows, but she doesn't want him to. she can no longer smell the perfumes that had pushed her into that first embrace, but the aftershocks still linger; even as his hands skim gently over her chest, the urge to nudge him forward is there, to step past slow and sweet into something more aggressive, something that might quell the ache between her legs as she shifts against the sheets. ]