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[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.

Ohhh—

[ YOU.

thumps her closed fist against his back in a jittery, wracked response of affront, except that he's succeeded. Henry ha just won. the line was paper-thin, and now that he's forced her across it, the heat and wet seems to redouble and drip through her. wetness that feels more immense, even if nothing physical changes. the twitching becomes shuddering becomes an instinctive and impossible-to-stop bucking in her hips, and her thighs tense and relax in slow and sweeping bouts. tense: squeezing his hips. relax: spreading wide. tense: squeezing his hips. relax. tense. relax. ]

You knave!

[ his fingers are so... slender. can feel them in the hug of her cunt. then, too, his palm grinding into her clit and the wet curls surrounding it. why is she thinking about that?...

retaliatory!! tail squeeze!!!! ]

[There. There it is. All of her clinging and shuddering against him. The clench of her cunt around his fingers and sporadic hug of her thighs. She’s amazing. So, so amazing.

And then she squeezes him with her tail.

Henry all but throws his head back, a genuine smile spread so wide across his face that he shows the line of his teeth. What happens when a man feels so simultaneously happy and lustful? It’s a strange kind of bliss. Heady and hazy and like there are little embers in his heart.]

D-don’t do that— [Accompanied by a light, uneven laugh.] Or you will make me come, too.

Good.

[ should that be so terrible? she's still quaking in his arms, but not so much she can't see the way he smiles and how good that makes her feel, in turn. this is what it means to feel pleasure compounded. ]

[...No. It wouldn't be so terrible.

She trembles in his arms and he holds on steadfast, nuzzled in, and driving his hips forward once more. Ohh, she feels divine.]

In that case... I guess I won't complain.

Mammon, are you going to?

[ he's still pushing on, rigid in her tail and hot and throbbing, too. her arms curl closer behind his head. she closes her eyes. his fingers feel as though they belong seated in her and keeping her full. ]

What of my tongue?

[How cute to think he has any capacity for real decision-making in a state like this. He just nuzzles even closer against her, fingertips tight against her back.]

Can still do that.

Ah--

[ not only 'can', but 'will'. reaches back with one hand to lift one cheek and part it, giving him the space to bury deep again, as deep as possible. from head to toe she's going limp and sitting heavier on her thighs. more weight on his palm, now soaked. ]

Then paint me.

[He fits perfectly, couched by her pliable softness and warmth. Henry breathes out, shuddering, happy to oblige. But also just greedy enough to make a request-]

Use your tail, too.

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