Evie
tell me all of the things
that make you feel at ease
He'd give her anything in the same way that she lays herself bare for the taking, everything in her power and persuasion free for him to lay claim to. Evie had envisioned their honeymoon - and vague, faceless honeymoons in the years before him - and had always considered that the intimacy of it all would be a sweeping wonder. Experiencing it firsthand, however, is enough to make those notions seem pitiful, laughable, childish in comparison. For all the ways their bodies have come together over the years, here and now seems like the pinnacle of resonance, and even as his body drags her own further into the sweet ache of over-sensitivity she feels perfectly harmonious with him. That hyper-sensitivity ensures further ends are not far off, especially with his clever, torturous fingers finding her clit and soaked folds. Each thrust jolts a faint whine from her throat instead of a slower, languorous chorus of moans. Her lips fall to his neck as his own does the same, biting errant marks across his trapezius and across his collarbone. Her fervent, heated breath sweeps out across his throat. "Together," she pleads, thighs shaking with both want and effort, "please. I want it." Crooning, begging, appealing. Confident he can shake her apart one more time, and wanting him to follow her over the cliff alongside her.
