RONIN
There’s something about the performance that feels carnal in a way that has Ronin losing himself to it entirely. He leans into the brush of warm feathers flexing around them, into the dance of her breasts in their mirrored reflections, into the feel of being inside her. Already his orgasm is coiling tight in his belly, and he drives himself forward hard and deep, uncaring of the world outside of this one.
Amalia’s voice registers to him distantly, and the Star redoubles his efforts; one arm slips around her to hitch her up and back against him, and the other slides down, into golden curls and the slick heat between her legs. ”Cum,” he finishes the sentence for her - an invitation punctuated by the way his fingers seek her clit, rubbing against it in feverish circles. ”Fuck, Ama. I can’t— not much longer—”
Gods, he wants to hold out, but even the sight of them both in the mirror now is almost too much. He doesn’t look away, though - Ronin wants to see how ecstasy looks on her face. He wants to remember it.
Amalia’s voice registers to him distantly, and the Star redoubles his efforts; one arm slips around her to hitch her up and back against him, and the other slides down, into golden curls and the slick heat between her legs. ”Cum,” he finishes the sentence for her - an invitation punctuated by the way his fingers seek her clit, rubbing against it in feverish circles. ”Fuck, Ama. I can’t— not much longer—”
Gods, he wants to hold out, but even the sight of them both in the mirror now is almost too much. He doesn’t look away, though - Ronin wants to see how ecstasy looks on her face. He wants to remember it.
one more wish for you
