Catchy Title

With realism entirely out the window but not in a perceptible way, the Launceleyn was able to hungrily stretch forward and meet Phoebe's lips. Though she was still balanced against a table, now her back was also pressed against a wall such that Loren's other hand was free to tangle in her hand. His tongue silently punctuated unsaid words, moans leaving him and bleeding directly against her. As her teeth grazed against his ear he shivered, growling low and insistently as she made her demands. What the honeybee wanted, the honeybee would get. The hand in her hair tangled and pulled, forcing her head backwards with a domineering sort of strength and conviction. It might have even hurt, but Loren would be more than happy to kiss away any of the resulting tears. With kisses comprised of teeth more than lips, the Launceleyn nipped his way down to her collarbones, his fingers still pulling her head back if only to undescore that in the moment, she was his. His for the taking. His for the fucking. His, and his, and his. Sliding the hand from her hair now to her lower back, his fingers pressed against the meatier bits of her hips, Loren began to fuck the midwife in unruly earnest now. Panting against her breasts, the table beneath them rocking and thudding to accompany the slaps of flesh, Loren indeed thrust harder, angling his hips so that there was no barrier to the angle of their bodies. "Cum for me, Phoebe." He all but demanded, and for all the heat that simmered on his cheeks, there was a frosty possessiveness in his stare. Cum, or I'll fuck you until you do. In reality, the dildo would expand slightly and seem to thrust on its own so that the midwife's wrist would not be responsible for the speed or pressure she desired. Frey