[Practically enveloped by her. Henry could stay like this forever, Sprezzatura completely encompassing him despite her small frame. It's a comfort, makes his heart beat harder, having nothing to do with the hard glass seated inside of him.
But he breathes out, warm. Straightens himself on his elbows, ever so slightly; not pushing against her body, but simply a gesture of effort.]
I am ready...
[He never said he wanted to pause, despite himself. He pushes his backside... backwards, for what little leeway there is, but even that small millimeter change of position, sinking inside of him, almost wrenches free another groan from his mouth.]
[ such a small movement. practically nothing changes, but she knows for him, it will feel monumental. she hums into the back of his neck; moves both hands to brace in the blankets on either side of him.
she wants... a deep and vulgar fucking. something that will render him the mewling thing he chafes against. ]
So, then—lift your hips.
[ present himself to her, who is already hilted and piggybacking on him. ]
[Oh, well, if that’s what she wants… then she will unravel him before this is all over, and he will be mewling out her name both prettily and pathetically. After all, it already feels so affected that he breathes out steadily even as she adjusts. As though to brace himself for more to come.
And he… listens, obediently. Lowers his head down again as he gently hitches his hips upwards, angling. Presenting, yes, even if she is already inside — which must at least give her a nicer view.]
[ given her bodily drape so close to him she may as well be second skin, the view is irrelevant. it is more the... knowing which does her. he will tilt and angle and spread because she tells him to, and there's no questioning. Henry Creel simply does. it is as though his pride simply disappears.
and yet the brand remains. there on his inner wrist, visible when she glances aside beneath her lashes. ]
Good...
[ as his hindquarters lift and she lifts in turn, having hugged herself to him like she has. she wriggles in place so that once more the length moves in him. her hands, meanwhile, gather up in the sheets. ah. he won't be very easy to take, will he? he's so... tall. ]
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finalflight2024-12-26 07:22 pm
no subject
But he breathes out, warm. Straightens himself on his elbows, ever so slightly; not pushing against her body, but simply a gesture of effort.]
I am ready...
[He never said he wanted to pause, despite himself. He pushes his backside... backwards, for what little leeway there is, but even that small millimeter change of position, sinking inside of him, almost wrenches free another groan from his mouth.]
no subject
she wants... a deep and vulgar fucking. something that will render him the mewling thing he chafes against. ]
So, then—lift your hips.
[ present himself to her, who is already hilted and piggybacking on him. ]
no subject
And he… listens, obediently. Lowers his head down again as he gently hitches his hips upwards, angling. Presenting, yes, even if she is already inside — which must at least give her a nicer view.]
ignore the blood my paid ran out
and yet the brand remains. there on his inner wrist, visible when she glances aside beneath her lashes. ]
Good...
[ as his hindquarters lift and she lifts in turn, having hugged herself to him like she has. she wriggles in place so that once more the length moves in him. her hands, meanwhile, gather up in the sheets. ah. he won't be very easy to take, will he? he's so... tall. ]