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[His cock, which weeps and throbs and is desperate for friction. Granted only a smidgen of it when she adjusts herself.

He makes a noise of protest, which bubbles into a laugh to match hers. She’s beautiful; but also cute. She makes him feel… giddy, the only person who can manage that somehow.]

You know that’s not what I meant.

[Uncrooks his fingers and… bends them again!]

Ahh—h.

[ this is how he gets the friction! her hips move in a little pulse, that delicious wet sound, and in so doing she bears down on his cockhead nudged right up against her, too. very little could feel better than this.

well... maybe if he were kissing at her nipples, too. ]

But you want my tongue inside you, too. Mmm, what trouble.

[Oh. A reward for his efforts — this is how you train good little twinks, you know. He repeats the movement again inside of her, coveting the sound and scent of their sex, and how she feels rubbing against the head of his cock.

He doesn’t kiss her again yet, but instead nuzzles in, pillowing himself in her chest.]

I do want that, too.

Then—

[ there's a slick bead of precome wetting her as she rubs. he would fit her perfectly; just enough stretch to satisfy that pleasant ache and deep enough that she would feel completely full. and then his fingers also moving come-hither in her cunt—

she clenches tight around him for an instant. two.

Henry will find her awash in new goosebumps. ]

Does imagining it make you twitch? Those softest of kisses.

[His imagination runs parallel the moment she clenches tighter around his fingers, still curled inside of her, moving as she likes it. She’d feel so good, kissing his cock like that. Tight and hugging and squeezing at him as he thrust inside of her.

That makes him twitch. He nuzzles into her chest again, and the pebble of her goosebumps brush against his skin; he presses a plush kiss against her bosom.

Her tongue, though. Teasing and exploring his hole — how indecent and how exciting that would be, too. He can’t even guess at how it would feel.]

Of course it does. And I could touch myself, too, while you explore me.

[ he's so eager! hardly shy at all. ]

Mmhm. [ slow grinding. she's getting him wet, too. ] Mammon, Henry, I want that.

[What’s there to be shy about? He wants her to know exactly how much he desires her, in all the ways his imagination can provide.

His fingers continue to wiggle and stimulate her from the inside, even—or especially—as the web of his fingers begins to collect her wetness there.]

You’d like that to this more?

Hmmmmmm. Why must I choose?

[ this time, when she rolls her hips, she keeps the momentum going—begins to hump his hand. mmmmmmm. ]

[Tilts his head up, chin in her bosom, experiencing the newfound bliss of continual, repeated friction against his cock, looking at her like she’s heaven itself.]

Then let’s have you do as much as you like, fucking my fingers…

[He angles his palm upwards just enough to be properly cupping her, so that her clit might rub against him even more.]

Then you can use your tongue on me. I’m in no hurry to be anywhere, are you?

No. No... All I want is here.

[ him. him him him him.

forward into his palm and grinding there. back against the tip of his cock. her tail nudges beneath the head, holding him in place even as she moves more and more aggressively. ]

Kiss my neck.

[Yes ma’am. The expedient way his lips rise up to latch onto her neck is almost comedic, but her movements (and her blasted tail) make him feel desperate. Greedy. More more more.

They’re eager, wet kisses. Hurried and even a bit sucking. Henry’s hips grind up instinctively, and his hand moves along with the effort, adding more pressure for her to rut into.]

[ the sound that their sex makes—their ears should burn. Sprezzatura, though, feels only a sharp, plucking pleasure steadily radiating up through her stomach and also down her legs. heady, isn't it? she loves that feeling.

as she squirms in his lap, she rucks her nails up and down his back. through fabric, no claws on blissful skin this time, but it's enough. all she wants is to caress him and for him to know that she is.

gaspy, ] I think I could fit every inch of you up my hole—

[ another time. ]

[The suggestion of those claws through the thin fabric of his shirt is nearly as good; or maybe nearly worse, just a torturous tease. He should have taken his shirt off first, he thinks for the second time.

But finally, Sprezzatura earns the last thing she's been wanting: Henry squirms a little too, excess energy writhing through him despite how eagerly he fucks her with his fingers and palm, and finds that extra effort manifesting by how his lips find the closest stiffened nipple—not difficult, since he's at perfect level for it–and kisses, sucks there.

Hums heated approval, his mouth never straying far even when he speaks.]

Which one?

[ehe]

[ the dimmest part of Sprezzatura's brain suggests fishing up a lipstick tube and reapplying, if he's going to be kissing where he's kissing. only for a moment, though. a woman can't be expected to think when there's a pair of lips wrapped around her nipple.

lowers her face into the soft, flaxen hair at his crown. her own hot exhale blooms across Henry's scalp. wriggle more. she loves it. her heart is hammering so hard it makes her feel sick. ]

These inches [ wrapping his base up snug to hold him right where she wants him, in between ] and this hole. Leave my cunt free for this wonderful... perfect touch...

[Warm and snug and, despite what they're doing, she feels safe. He loves it, her breath in his hair. He suckles at her nipple again, swirling his tongue around it once or twice, before pulling back to sever the kiss with a wet noise.

Wiggle more? He wiggles more — all of him, his hips, his fingers. His cock throbbing against the hug of her tail. Impatient and excited and full of a warm, ever-present feeling that has more to do with her than the act itself.

Breathy-] Promise me? That you'll let me do that.

[Later. Someday.]

Of course. [ practically cooing, a tone that you might not think would suit her, but it does. in here, it does. ] Of course I let you.

[ tugs his hair ]

But first--first, touch my clit, make it sing.

[He likes it when she pulls at his hair. It makes him tilt his head up at her, so she can see how his lips are dimly swollen from their kissing, and how the lipstick still smears across his face.]

Hm, like this?

[The heel of his palm rising, pushing forward and back enough to rub against her clit, which has the secondary effect of moving his fingers inside of her more.

Like this, or does she want him to unearth his fingers from her cunt?]

[ the hot breaths into his hair turn into staggered little moans ]

Yes. Like that.

Edited (MY ICON) 2024-07-18 01:42 (UTC)

[He'd love to hear more of those little moans, the degree in which he can drag them from her throat. Up goes the heel of his palm again, rubbing in with more pressure, timing it to the way she might move her hips against him, too. The come-hither motions of his fingers inside of her quicken.]

And this?

[ again: ] Yes.

[ and she tosses her head, so her hair fans out over one shoulder, and lays both arms over his shoulders, and her humping quickens to something downright obscene. yes, yes, yes. da, da, da. more. everything below is hot and wet and squirming, exactly as she likes it to be.

she's...

fuck.

she's close. ]

[Hot and wet and squirming. A little more of this, her movements quickening, and Henry's nearly sure he could come just from the sight alone if he really let himself go. After all, with her growing fervor, so does the way she rubs against his cock, both sublime and still not enough.

Henry lets out a moan that somehow assembles itself into words of encouragement for her. His palm is slick, his fingers stroking her soft insides. She practically envelops him, and his head tilts forward so his mouth brushes against her skin when he speaks.]

Sprezzatura, keep going. Let me hear you. Just me, just for me. You're wonderful like this.

[ she wants to hear him, too. more of those bubbling moans that sound so sweet. and she knows just how to get them: keep going.

panting with the effort, Sprezzatura rolls her hips harder, chasing that building heat. a tremor in her thighs. her skin so wet that it sticks to Henry's palm with every press. ]

For you--

[Yes, for him. Only for him. Perhaps he’s not earned that qualifier from her yet—only—but the very idea makes him feel so lightheaded. It’s as though all of his blood has rushed elsehwere; between his legs, probably, heat on heat.

God, she’s so wet. His heart thumps in his chest so hard, too, both incredibly turned on and wanting to soak up her own pleasure secondhand. He rocks his palm forward every time she meets it, just to eke out as much of her ecstasy as he can.]

Yes, for me.

[For him. Him. His, his. He wants her so badly in ways that aren’t related to sex — bolstered, naturally, by his obsessive nature. But also the void she fills in him, every day he gets to spend in her presence.]

I want you, Sprezzatura. All to myself. Moments like these are our little collection of secr—

[Secrets, he wants to say, very predictably. But she grinds into him again, and it feels so perfect against his cock, and he just moans, staggered breaths against her skin.]

[ secrets.

a harried laugh, turning into a mirrored stuttering moan. surely it can't be that secret, with the amount of noise she makes, and how rickety the cabin itself is. surely someone has overheard, will overhear—

but until they do, yes, it can be their secret. only she gets to know that he shivers after and that his voice begins to crack, at last, at last, when he's on the very verge of coming. she snaps her hips once, twice more, then freezes. frozen in the bloom of pre-orgasmic heat. and suddenly, Sprezzatura's clutching onto him, shivering, burying his face in her bosom and panting against his neck. so fucking close to bliss. ]

Not yet. I am not wanting it to be over yet—

[The worst-kept secret in all of Pride. Sooner or later, this will be a very difficult one to keep, indeed; but for now, it's all theirs.

The way she freezes, suddenly, is telling. His shoulders rise in a breathy laugh, and he should be kind and try to make this last as long as possible. A part of him doesn't want this to end, either. But the other part...

...wants to see and feel and hear her fall to pieces, right in front of him.]

Come on, Sprezzatura. Don't hold back. [His palm applies pressure anew, rubs against her despite how she's halted against him. A little push past that precipice. His words might as well be messy half-kisses buried in her bosom.] You're doing so well. We can do this again and again— as much as you like. Anytime you want, I'm yours. And you're mine, too.

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