Lena
// what is to give light must endure burning //
Her mind was a warped haze; all action and response, arousal and need, wanton and fair. Her body was a hum of rapt, fervent, and impassioned persuasion, each sound a decibel to encourage his ministrations. She maneuvered in quick undulations beneath him, wanting his mouth on her neck, then lower, but becoming distracted by the finality of his pants coming undone before her. “Finally,” she whispered with a serene and coy smile, an eager hand dipping lower along his stomach, just to see the reaction, threatening but not touching over the ample erection; figuring too early of a response might be his undoing – and there was no need for a prerequisite. She still looked though, rapt appreciation to follow as she bit down on her lips, straining and refraining.
Though she would’ve kept going on some level, whether it was her nails lightly raking down his back, trying to gauge his platitudes and his needs, angling herself to gain another touch, his words came to utter around her, a light gasp following his motions as lips descended over her breasts. “Zav,” she came to whisper first, intending for it to echo in his ear as a thumb brushed along her nipple, forcing and forging the name from her mouth, coaxed and persuaded within an instant; and likely many more times to come. Even more so when his tongue followed, her spine arcing to meet the motions, senses on overload, a mewl, a moan, spindling out from her. “Your touch,” and thereafter she grasped one of his hands, trying to lead it down to her core, where she could be plucked and strung and come undone with the mere brush of fingers along her thighs or at her center. “I want it here.” Hoping he'd take the beneficial hint, she tilted her head, studying him, eyes hooded and dark. "What else?" Did he need and crave?
Though she would’ve kept going on some level, whether it was her nails lightly raking down his back, trying to gauge his platitudes and his needs, angling herself to gain another touch, his words came to utter around her, a light gasp following his motions as lips descended over her breasts. “Zav,” she came to whisper first, intending for it to echo in his ear as a thumb brushed along her nipple, forcing and forging the name from her mouth, coaxed and persuaded within an instant; and likely many more times to come. Even more so when his tongue followed, her spine arcing to meet the motions, senses on overload, a mewl, a moan, spindling out from her. “Your touch,” and thereafter she grasped one of his hands, trying to lead it down to her core, where she could be plucked and strung and come undone with the mere brush of fingers along her thighs or at her center. “I want it here.” Hoping he'd take the beneficial hint, she tilted her head, studying him, eyes hooded and dark. "What else?" Did he need and crave?
