The fingers tighten in his hair and that tells him all he needs to know; slumping back onto the bed and letting his hands glide up the back of Morgan's thighs, Neron is ready for her as she perches over him. Humming his appreciation for this new position, his tongue gets swiftly to work, flicking teasingly over her clit and plunging into the slick heat of her. It doesn't take long before she's arching up, the Hailstorm gazing up at the Glacier with eyes that crackle with heat, clearly pleased with his own work.
Long fingers stroke along her thighs and up to settle on her hips; if he were capable of breath, he'd be panting with exertion by now. As it is, though, there's a slow, serene calm that falls over the room, and Neron swears it feels warmer (though that can't be true on his part). "You look beautiful like this," he purrs.
