[ altogether, his warmth and weight and scent are too much. how genuine it all feels, the dull throbbing of her throat making his presence all the more salient, reality all the more solid -
after all, per usual, it hurt a little at first. if she were dreaming, she would've woken up by now. but here she is on top of him, the sound of him so low, so close it sends a jolt through her, stokes the embers in her gut and pushes out all other thought as it settles resonant in her mind; it rings in her ears as her voice scrapes shallow out her throat, in light, hitching breaths,
of course it's real. of course he is real, but each time it occurs to her is more wonderful than the last, she's sure.
and setting her arms at his shoulders, she clings to him. her hose are tight and smooth to the touch but each spine she encounters prods and stretches at the fabric, breaking the monotony - as if bolstered she carries on; she rocks herself firm against the edge of his cock, slow but more forceful than he might recall, with unrestrained need for greater friction, heat and moisture growing where she's connected them. her fingers curl stiff and frustrated behind his back as if to tear the nylons to pieces themselves, short nails jabbing at his skin - harmlessly, but present, pinching.
under his mouth, too, it's obvious - if her pulse were any quicker, if it pounded any louder than this, he might not need the lynx ears to hear it. ]
[ he's breaking the cat roleplay to just murmur her name, voice husky and thick with heat as his cock stiffens and twitches against the friction from her cunt. the slickness helps with the friction of his motion, the rocking as he moves back and forth, but the spines will still catch against her sensitive skin.
it's really just building up; he's never fucked her before like this but he wants to. his teeth latch into her skin, something more bestial than the bite before, possessive as he ruts up against her, growling faintly into her skin. ]
[ so excited as she is, eager as she is to have him even closer the immediate pain is nothing. but her body twists and arches into him still, stiff and taut like a bowstring against the roughness of the bite, a harsh cry escaping her throat - just in that brief moment, sensation melting away into pleasure like snow beneath the warming rays of spring.
loosing one arm from behind his back she shifts to cradle his head to her throat loosely, present but not so firm he's unable to move as pleases, encouraging; even if it were more painful than this, even if that feeling lasted forever, even if he were to bite her throat out here and now, any of those would be worth it if they could carry on in this embrace, if he could enjoy himself.
eventually she murmurs, soft - tongue heavy and loose in her mouth, breaths labored, voice trembling with need ]
Mm, it's - . . . as much as you want is fine . . .
[ it'd be selfish to focus her attention on her own pleasure, she thinks dimly, attempting to cobble together the rest of that sentence - marking her is fine, fucking her is fine, anything so long as he's satisfied, for as long as he wants.
but she grows slicker still the longer he spends rutting up against her, thighs tensing with each spine that ghosts over her cunt, near her clit, trapped agitated beneath her clothes and weeks of no relief and throbbing with such force it puts even the worst of his bites to shame. the remaining words end up lost in that desperation for relief; all she manages instead is a whine, muddled syllables seeming vaguely like his name ]
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after all, per usual, it hurt a little at first. if she were dreaming, she would've woken up by now. but here she is on top of him, the sound of him so low, so close it sends a jolt through her, stokes the embers in her gut and pushes out all other thought as it settles resonant in her mind; it rings in her ears as her voice scrapes shallow out her throat, in light, hitching breaths,
of course it's real. of course he is real, but each time it occurs to her is more wonderful than the last, she's sure.
and setting her arms at his shoulders, she clings to him. her hose are tight and smooth to the touch but each spine she encounters prods and stretches at the fabric, breaking the monotony - as if bolstered she carries on; she rocks herself firm against the edge of his cock, slow but more forceful than he might recall, with unrestrained need for greater friction, heat and moisture growing where she's connected them. her fingers curl stiff and frustrated behind his back as if to tear the nylons to pieces themselves, short nails jabbing at his skin - harmlessly, but present, pinching.
under his mouth, too, it's obvious - if her pulse were any quicker, if it pounded any louder than this, he might not need the lynx ears to hear it. ]
no subject
[ he's breaking the cat roleplay to just murmur her name, voice husky and thick with heat as his cock stiffens and twitches against the friction from her cunt. the slickness helps with the friction of his motion, the rocking as he moves back and forth, but the spines will still catch against her sensitive skin.
it's really just building up; he's never fucked her before like this but he wants to. his teeth latch into her skin, something more bestial than the bite before, possessive as he ruts up against her, growling faintly into her skin. ]
no subject
loosing one arm from behind his back she shifts to cradle his head to her throat loosely, present but not so firm he's unable to move as pleases, encouraging; even if it were more painful than this, even if that feeling lasted forever, even if he were to bite her throat out here and now, any of those would be worth it if they could carry on in this embrace, if he could enjoy himself.
eventually she murmurs, soft - tongue heavy and loose in her mouth, breaths labored, voice trembling with need ]
Mm, it's - . . . as much as you want is fine . . .
[ it'd be selfish to focus her attention on her own pleasure, she thinks dimly, attempting to cobble together the rest of that sentence - marking her is fine, fucking her is fine, anything so long as he's satisfied, for as long as he wants.
but she grows slicker still the longer he spends rutting up against her, thighs tensing with each spine that ghosts over her cunt, near her clit, trapped agitated beneath her clothes and weeks of no relief and throbbing with such force it puts even the worst of his bites to shame. the remaining words end up lost in that desperation for relief; all she manages instead is a whine, muddled syllables seeming vaguely like his name ]