[it's not a wine that will slake the thirst. not for Robin, either. it's one that burns in his gut and thighs instead of drying his throat. it's why his hips buck and his knees dig into sheets with an over the top thread count that causes it to feel slick against his skin. so he has to use her body as leverage and pull her thigh against his torso to rock against her deeper.
the rough metal of his zipper grinds into him as much as it presses onto her. he's not out of breath. not yet. but he can't catch it as it gets away from him with each soft cry from beneath him. eventually, the louder ones, too.
the fingers brush higher and he's entranced with how her chest rises and falls. hers brush against his cock and he sucks in a sharp breath. there's no way he'll beg but while the thirst hadn't dried his throat, the groan is still hoarse into the line that cuts across her palm. she explores the same way he did and he lets her, his chest beginning to heave as much as hers.
for what he did to her against the tree, he guesses this is his comeuppance. this trick of hers as she merely squeezes his girth and drags her tongue across all the space she can reach. he repays her by taking the hand his face is still presses against and licks between her fingers, tongue slipping between two digits. her thigh is released, his thumb hooks into the side of the waistband to try and work his trousers down off his hips. they'll get caught somewhere around his thighs, definitely, but reason is slipping away as quickly as her robe had been on her body.
what was the trick? a ploy to have him get rid of his own pants after he told her to do it? it worked.]
Yeah? I have a trick, too.
[the world spins again until he can feel that ridiculous thread count and down feathers at his back. Nero's weight puts pressure on his hips that he couldn't make consistent on his own. it's such a small force but it's enough to drive him a little mad. a tug on her hand pulls her down flush against him and he bucks up into her, hips bouncing.]
no subject
the rough metal of his zipper grinds into him as much as it presses onto her. he's not out of breath. not yet. but he can't catch it as it gets away from him with each soft cry from beneath him. eventually, the louder ones, too.
the fingers brush higher and he's entranced with how her chest rises and falls. hers brush against his cock and he sucks in a sharp breath. there's no way he'll beg but while the thirst hadn't dried his throat, the groan is still hoarse into the line that cuts across her palm. she explores the same way he did and he lets her, his chest beginning to heave as much as hers.
for what he did to her against the tree, he guesses this is his comeuppance. this trick of hers as she merely squeezes his girth and drags her tongue across all the space she can reach. he repays her by taking the hand his face is still presses against and licks between her fingers, tongue slipping between two digits. her thigh is released, his thumb hooks into the side of the waistband to try and work his trousers down off his hips. they'll get caught somewhere around his thighs, definitely, but reason is slipping away as quickly as her robe had been on her body.
what was the trick? a ploy to have him get rid of his own pants after he told her to do it? it worked.]
Yeah? I have a trick, too.
[the world spins again until he can feel that ridiculous thread count and down feathers at his back. Nero's weight puts pressure on his hips that he couldn't make consistent on his own. it's such a small force but it's enough to drive him a little mad. a tug on her hand pulls her down flush against him and he bucks up into her, hips bouncing.]