A warm meal and a quiet night

KIADA curl your hands into fists, and sharpen your nails. They’re shifting and moving a small amount in their slight dance, her legs moving to try and draw him, to edge him nearer to her, to grasp for what it is she craves. But it’s a dance they’re both waiting on as she purrs and pleads to him through the attuned bond, sending all of her desire toward him in a furry and barrage of emotions. And finally, almost as if the anticipation might kill her first, he lowers himself to her, slipping into her. And the feeling of him filling her has her voice louder now, coloring the air for him and him alone, back arching and nails digging in as she grasps onto him. It takes some adjusting, some shifting of her lower back and hips, but when she manages it he slips even further in and she gasps with the sensation. And then he’s moving again and she's almost whining to him at the unfairness of it, her lust driven mind entirely focused on the feeling of him and the sensation she feels as soon as he’s thrusting into her again. And she helps him set a rhythm with shuddering gasps and moans of her pleasure, her hips bucking into him to drive him deeper and deeper, tightening around him before that string and the pressure grows within her, burning and burning. Her hands trail down from his hair and his head to his hips, to his ass to grasp for more leveredge, to give her something to drive herself further on with him as her panting sounds grow more and more with the build up. She hopes he doesn’t mind when she can’t hold onto this feeling forever, when she’s reaching that peak and it’s washing over her in a light blinding gaze, shivering and shuddering with the pressure and pleasure he’s given her — she only hopes she’s done the same for him. the next time a man tells you to smile, show him bloodstained teeth.