[ the steady rock of his hips reduces her to whimpers, but it at least stops her squirming efforts to get more from him than he can give. her head lolls back against the pillow, and maybe she really is a saint after all because this certainly feels like something holy.
the weight of his palm on her abdomen makes her feel small—not in a way that diminishes, but in a way that reassures. he has this under control. she can let him take care of it, of her. he wants that responsibility. she wonders, distantly, if he can feel himself as he thrusts into her. it feels like he fills her so deeply, so fully, that each thrust must push against his palm, strain against the confines of her body.
she doesn't last. she hadn't been lying. the touch of his hand, the friction of his cock stretching her—it's too good, too much, and she is wholly opened to it. her breath catches in her throat, and though she tries to cry out as her muscles wind suddenly tight, it is a wordless shout, as her lungs squeeze as tight as her cunt does, pushing all the air out just like she tries to push him out and hold him inside at the same time. her cunt wrings hot and tight around him, a sudden vise.
it isn't intentional, the way her legs tighten around him too, trying to draw him deeper. utterly unconscious, driven by animal need and the natural tensing of muscle. and later, she will feel guilty for it, wondering if she was not more like aleksander than she wanted to admit, making difficult her assurance that nikolai could safely pull out before he finished.
because whether that part of her was at the forefront now or not, some part of her did want that. she wanted him to fill her, mark her, wash away any trace of what had come before. ]
(cw: dubcon re: unsafe sex)
the weight of his palm on her abdomen makes her feel small—not in a way that diminishes, but in a way that reassures. he has this under control. she can let him take care of it, of her. he wants that responsibility. she wonders, distantly, if he can feel himself as he thrusts into her. it feels like he fills her so deeply, so fully, that each thrust must push against his palm, strain against the confines of her body.
she doesn't last. she hadn't been lying. the touch of his hand, the friction of his cock stretching her—it's too good, too much, and she is wholly opened to it. her breath catches in her throat, and though she tries to cry out as her muscles wind suddenly tight, it is a wordless shout, as her lungs squeeze as tight as her cunt does, pushing all the air out just like she tries to push him out and hold him inside at the same time. her cunt wrings hot and tight around him, a sudden vise.
it isn't intentional, the way her legs tighten around him too, trying to draw him deeper. utterly unconscious, driven by animal need and the natural tensing of muscle. and later, she will feel guilty for it, wondering if she was not more like aleksander than she wanted to admit, making difficult her assurance that nikolai could safely pull out before he finished.
because whether that part of her was at the forefront now or not, some part of her did want that. she wanted him to fill her, mark her, wash away any trace of what had come before. ]