[ endless foreplay. she's impatient, but learning the wait is worth it. the endless talking before a decision is made, when they both know what the results will be. Nero's neither masochist nor sadist and yet - it's this thing forever just out of her reach that's got her going. whining. so thirsty she will drown them both.
but why continue? the noises she wrings out from him. the thumbs that push on her skin to test how real it as. Robin's hot mouth on her hand. he's taken her prisoner but - but Nero's complying, crying, as he tastes her wrist.
it is this drawing out, this gentlemanly bedding - not, unlike her insults, like a dog in rut, needing to fuck and move on. that tells her he doesn't want sex as loudly as his protests did - but wants to savor the opportunity. a take his time, appreciate what he's been allowed witness to. would almost suspect he's never had a woman spread naked before him, with how exploratory his hands are being.
but he knows how to jerk his hips, where to turn a tool. to make her jut her abdomen against him, bite her lip between curses. heave breaths. what to do to pin her thigh so there's no moving her just touch her. Nero wants to feel his hands, his cock - not just his clothes, his movements. gladly lets him take her hand, especially when she feels where it is going. and then leaves, so she has snake her fingers inward. find their way passed the pants, the underwear, the heat guiding her.
while he has means to touch, to brush, to caress. to lean away, and have Nero follow after, to keep her mouth on some place of his skin. returning contact as her fingers take the upward curve of his cock and still go south. feeling her way around the girth, the length, close enough that all subtle sounds Robin makes echoes loudly. here, even on her back, the power has returned to her. he's tipped it over to her, thinking he'd make her whine and plead. ]
Not forever.
[ it anchors her. Nero holds and strokes him, no friction, no rush. curves her tongue around his shoulder one final time before rolling it downward. ends with a kiss above his pectoral, another on the nipple. trying, though ceasing when he puppeteers her leg, to have her head go to him. so Nero gives a clever look, a smile, into his chest. ]
Shall I show you a trick with this?
[ tongue, again, savoring the cocktail of salt and sweat and wine across his collarbone. up his neck, and then back down. a constant flutter, in and out of her mouth, dabbing spots of saliva on his skin. consistent though he juts and turns. one of the birds escaping out of his chest, beating its wings on his flesh, until she begins to suck on a spot of skin. invigorated by the vibration of the pair of them.
and how his cock moves, now held like a saber, in her hand. ]
no subject
but why continue? the noises she wrings out from him. the thumbs that push on her skin to test how real it as. Robin's hot mouth on her hand. he's taken her prisoner but - but Nero's complying, crying, as he tastes her wrist.
it is this drawing out, this gentlemanly bedding - not, unlike her insults, like a dog in rut, needing to fuck and move on. that tells her he doesn't want sex as loudly as his protests did - but wants to savor the opportunity. a take his time, appreciate what he's been allowed witness to. would almost suspect he's never had a woman spread naked before him, with how exploratory his hands are being.
but he knows how to jerk his hips, where to turn a tool. to make her jut her abdomen against him, bite her lip between curses. heave breaths. what to do to pin her thigh so there's no moving her just touch her. Nero wants to feel his hands, his cock - not just his clothes, his movements. gladly lets him take her hand, especially when she feels where it is going. and then leaves, so she has snake her fingers inward. find their way passed the pants, the underwear, the heat guiding her.
while he has means to touch, to brush, to caress. to lean away, and have Nero follow after, to keep her mouth on some place of his skin. returning contact as her fingers take the upward curve of his cock and still go south. feeling her way around the girth, the length, close enough that all subtle sounds Robin makes echoes loudly. here, even on her back, the power has returned to her. he's tipped it over to her, thinking he'd make her whine and plead. ]
Not forever.
[ it anchors her. Nero holds and strokes him, no friction, no rush. curves her tongue around his shoulder one final time before rolling it downward. ends with a kiss above his pectoral, another on the nipple. trying, though ceasing when he puppeteers her leg, to have her head go to him. so Nero gives a clever look, a smile, into his chest. ]
Shall I show you a trick with this?
[ tongue, again, savoring the cocktail of salt and sweat and wine across his collarbone. up his neck, and then back down. a constant flutter, in and out of her mouth, dabbing spots of saliva on his skin. consistent though he juts and turns. one of the birds escaping out of his chest, beating its wings on his flesh, until she begins to suck on a spot of skin. invigorated by the vibration of the pair of them.
and how his cock moves, now held like a saber, in her hand. ]