finalflight | DEDICATED HENRATURRA POST;

DEDICATED HENRATURRA POST;

(( when the sun sets, we're both the same ))

[Inelegant as these moments might be, it doesn’t ruin the experience for Henry. Granted, he’s not the one coughing and wheezing, but it’s not like he feels embarrassment or thinks their intimacy has been indelibly dispelled.

Next time, he thinks, he’ll just… pull out. But that’s for future Henry to consider.

Hand on her back, rubbing little circles.]

Better than last time, still.

Oh, shut up...

[ her cheeks all the hotter. that did not feel much better—maybe slightly less hacking. what will it take to be a woman who swallows his cock as it spills in her throat, to feel it tugging with every pulse, to hold him there until his shivering is done and then have him languidly pull out? surely she can be. or maybe she needs to fall back on regular blowjobs and never swallowing at all...

one more cough. she slumps and rolls her face to the side to look up at him. ]

It is feeling nice?

[When she finally rolls over to look at him, he's flushed and fighting back a shiver, but smiling gently. A fondness there, still existing despite the messy way that this has ended. It's very much like Sprezzatura to hold herself to a standard that would make her ask if it felt nice, after all she's done.]

Sprezzatura...

[Hand still on her back, Henry lies down next to her, on his side. There's a laziness to his body language now.]

It's always nice with you. More than nice. You should know that by now.

[ it's just as she said: it will feel so good he cannot help but to want to drift off into sleep after. she swallows again, clears her throat again. the taste of him will linger.

even so... she's satisfied. ]

Good. Go to sleep, lapochka.