[As she drifts off, he holds her close, his hand on her hair and down her back slowing more and more as he starts to fall into sleep himself. Her movements do wake him up from time to time, just enough so he snuggles a bit closer along with her, pulling the blanket tighter around them.
It has been so long now since he's been able to sleep at all, let alone so comfortably. Now that he's cleansed, he knows how little sleep he truly got, since Thiazi would take his body as soon as night fell and made him do such truly horrible things. His own nightmares make him shiver, and unfortunately his nightmares aren't caused by the corruption, but his own guilt.
He remains asleep for a little while after she wakes up, his arms still holding her close to her body. And then, he's slowly subconsciously aware that she's awake and his eyes blink open, gazing blearily at her. When she flops her head back down, he's fully awake then and lifts his head from the pillow to look down at her.]
[ It's a bit hard to see in the room, even with the light from under the door (she must have forgotten to flick off the kitchen light), but it isn't hard to tell when he lifts his head and questions her. She's grateful for the dark for hiding her guilty expression. She hadn't meant to wake him. ]
Sorry- yeah. M'fine. You might be all cleaned up, but I'm still-- Sleep is difficult.
[ And with a groan, she burrows herself against his chest, seemingly ignorant of her inhibitions in the still half-groggy state she's wading in. ]
[His voice is rough with what little sleep he did have.]
No, no, it's alright. I may be cleaned up, but I still remember everything, so I wasn't sleeping very soundly anyway.
[Having her against his chest feels nice. Very nice. In his own half-groggy state, he's only barely aware of his heart picking up speed just a little. He adjusts his position on the bed to rest more fully on it, wrapping both arms around her now and holding her close to him.]
I'm sure the gods will have a way to fix it soon enough.
[ She moves with him as he does, situating herself until they're both comfortable, even if it means she's more partially on top of him (or his chest at least) than anything else. Her head nods once; no, he would still have some of those memories, wouldn't he.
... The temptation to ask if he remembered at all what happened during his fugue states is there, but she stores it away. Not the time. Definitely, absolutely not the time. ]
Mm. Dunno. You could distract me?
[ ... She does mean that innocently enough. Honest. ]
[There was a point when he had a thought in his head. Maybe. He vaguely remembers there being thoughts and intelligence and...stuff. It takes a moment for something intelligible to come out of his mouth; at first there's nothing but stammering before he finally manages to say...]
[ It was innocent, you dirty old man. Shame on you. But his response has her grinning suddenly, and man alive, has she ever been more grateful for the dark? Hiding her reddening cheeks so flawlessly. Rose Tyler does not blush, and the world shall not know otherwise. ]
Well. You could always kiss me again. If you like.
[He's stripped down to his boxers and has a beautiful woman lying half on top of him. Cut him some slack.
This. This is definitely a good suggestion. He gently pulls her up a bit more so her lips are within reach and tilts his head to capture her mouth with his. His kiss the night before hadn't been chaste and neither is this one. Even less so, due to the haze of just waking up, combined with the warmth and comfort of being cocooned under a blanket with another body pressed against him.
It's a kiss that's slow and languid, as if he has all the time in the world. And really, it's really far too early in the morning and they have nowhere to go. Of course he has the time to kiss Rose properly.]
[ Hey, it's not like she's going to complain. So she will readily push herself up just enough for their lips to meet; slow and languid and almost but not quite gentle. It is early in the morning, and somehow it still coaxes a slow burning fire into the pit of her stomach, urging her to shift a little closer, to maybe get herself more comfortable. And if that entails dragging a leg over both of his until she's kind of sort of ish straddling him, then so be it. ]
[Oh. Oh my. Where is his respiratory bypass when he needs it? Oh, that's right. It's been replaced by raging human hormones that may have just shot through the roof when her leg goes around him.
His hands suddenly need something to do other than cling to her, and so he slides them under the shirt of her pajamas, his palms flat against the bare skin of her back.
He almost thinks to pull back and ask her if she's sure about this, but at the moment, he can't bring himself to stop kissing her just this moment.]
[ She might have just kept kissing him anyway. Who needs to talk when you have a perfectly good distraction of tongue and hands against her (admittedly slightly warm) back and oh, that feels ... actually really nice.
It might also feel nice when her own hands start to wander. Nothing fancy yet, but with him being quite topless ignore my earlier statements of shirt-grabbing what it's more than easy to slide her hands up to his collarbone, down again to his ribs and maybe her nails are dragging a little bit more than absolutely necessary. ]
[Her nails on his skin elicits a low groan from him and his own hands continue to wander her back, her sides and down to her waist, holding her tight against him. Yes, they've definitely gone beyond innocent now.
His mouth now roams as well, moving from her lips to kiss his way to her neck, nipping lightly once he reaches the point where her neck curves to meet her shoulder.]
Rose...?
[It's more of a request than anything that's whispered against her skin. Please don't make him stop. Not now. He cares not one bit if he seems lacking in self-control. It's been a long, horrible time for them both, and he desperately wants this. Let them forget the weeks that past, at least for a little while.]
[ She has very little problem letting him do as he likes, kissing his way from her lips to her throat and earning himself a hummed little whimper and another shift of her legs. Or hips, in this case, just the slightest bit down and towards his own. Or at least, the side of his hip.
One of her hands slides up and into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp in the gentlest way as he queries her name. Her only response however, is to pull back and look down at him, just for a moment. Her eyes may have adjusted somewhat to the darkness of the room, and she may be able to just see the outline of his face... But it's enough. Just a little reminder that he's really there, alive and well and ... gods, under her, in her bed.
So she kisses him again, just this side of chaste. That should be answer enough. ]
His hands slide up again, pushing up her top as he does so, leaning forward to kiss whatever bit of skin he can reach. He tosses it aside when he manages to pull it free and then comes back for more, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of her pajama bottoms.
After a moment's thought, he changes tack, moving one arm around her instead so he can turn with her so that he's now lying on top before returning to the rest of her clothing. His mouth captures hers again and he tugs at the bottoms, sliding them slowly down her hips.]
[ In honesty, she has to wonder how this managed to come about. Not in a bad way, not at all. But she'd been so relieved to have him alive again, had wished him over and she certainly wasn't about to send him all the way home after that. Was it right? Was it wrong? Gods if she knew. It felt right, just as it had with ... any version of him. Which was strange, for how different they all were. But the spark was there, the desperate need to be with him, in any shape or form, even if it was just standing next to him, pledging Forever on some alien planet.
And it really is hard to try and keep a train of thought when your shirt is getting tugged over your head, tossed to the ground and you're being manhandled onto your back. Perhaps focusing on that would be more beneficial to both parties.
Her breath is already beginning to gust in her lungs as he slips his tongue against her own (or maybe that was the other way around) and she can feel his fingers grasping for the edges of her pyjama shorts, sliding them down until she's left in nothing but her knickers. She feels on fire already, hands at the sides of his face, holding him against her briefly before dashing off, down his shoulders and arms once, slipping to his waist and in a deft sort of move, she's pulling him down between her legs, hips to hips- just for a moment. And if a wandering hand manages to sneak a few fingers just below his own waistband to scratch a little, well. She's got a feeling he won't mind too much. ]
[He might have a thought in that ridiculous head of his, but it has gone very quiet while his mind gets overwhelmed by pure need and sensation. And oh. Her hand moves down between them and he's too far gone to even care what that thought might have been. His hips roll involuntarily against hers and his only thought now is that they still both have far too much fabric separating them.
His lips are on the move again, kissing his way down her neck and chest until he reaches one nipple and gently sucks it into his mouth. Then, deciding to give her hand more room, he pulls his boxers down his hips and kicks them off, leaving him fully exposed to her at last.]
[ Who needs thoughts anyway, when you've got a once-Time Lord in your bed that you've been loving and lusting after for god knows how long, now? Even if, you know-- details. Like we said. Who needs thoughts.
But she will readily agree about their being a little too much fabric left between them, even if it's merely a bit of cloth covering the important bits. It might just feel like a parka once his mouth reaches her chest, eliciting a delightful little noise out of her throat. And then he's kicking off his boxers and she's gasping a little because while she can't really see anything, she can definitely feel him. Hot and hard and leaving her hips to buck slightly upwards against him, as if trying to coax some further action from him.
Instead, she reaches down, only a little awkwardly, and tugs down her own underwear, bumping him once or twice with her knee (and a chuckle), before flinging them off to some other part of her room. For a moment, a full body shiver seems to quake across her, shuddering her breath into a strange sort of inhale. ]
Doctor...
[ Because why use silly numbers, when she has a feeling his name is going to be much more effective. Even in her sleep-addled, semi delirious state, she knows what she wants. Who she wants. And if consequences come later, then damn them to later. ]
[He just manages another swipe of his tongue across her nipple before he releases her breast with a long groan when her hips buck and press against that most sensitive of parts. His hips twitch in response, and he's not sure how much more he can take.
Thankfully, he doesn't have to wait long before she's wiggling out of her underwear. They're both loopy and tired, and he gives a breathy laugh when they knock knees in the struggle. And then...oh. There's nothing more between them. If he thought his heart was pounding before, it's practically trying to burst out of his chest now. They've reached the point of no return.
He positions himself, gazing down at her in the half-light, and then she says his name. That's when he's truly lost. His eyes close and he slides home.]
[ It's a deafening moment of silence, in her opinion. Even despite the sound of their escalating breaths. Just a moment of being there, completely bare to one another, and once again she finds her mind racing to try and come up with a story of how this came about. Not for long, of course. Not when he's shifting and positioning, and she can still just barely see his outline; the outside light is finally starting to lighten the room to odd hues of dark blue instead of black.
She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until he slides in, only wincing once because it's been a long, long time since anyone had ever joined with her like this. But she swallows, licks her lips and has to pull him down again, has to kiss him hard and devouring because maybe, just maybe, it'll distract from how terrified she is her heart might explode. ]
[He feels her wince and instantly freezes. Oh no.]
Rose? Did I-- [And the rest of his question is lost to her fierce kiss.
He can't remain still for long; the ache is too much to bear after a moment. Still mindful of the wince, he begins slowly, as slow as he dares without driving himself mad. He slides one arm behind her shoulder blade, while his other hand grasps her hip, holding onto her for dear life.
This is all a dream. It has to be. Soon he'll wake up alone, still curled up in the burnt-out shell of a building. Things like this didn't happen, not to him. Not more than once, and he'd had his one chance. And then a shiver of pleasure washes over him, eliciting another moan, louder than before. No, this has to be real. No dream is this good.]
[ She is quite glad her kiss distracted him, because explaining the logistics of it were just not in her mind, ready for use. She didn't want him to fuss. She just wanted. Wanted him, this, the comfort, the distraction, the feeling of being wanted like this.
She groans into their kiss as he begins to move, thrusting slow but still with enough force to have her shivering. Moments later, her hands are sliding up his back, clinging and holding for leverage so she can arch her back, just enough to try and rock her hips in tandem with his. Evidently, either it didn't take much for him to get her worked up, or she'd been ready a lot sooner than she let on. ]
[When her hips begin to move with his, he breaks the kiss and gasps in pleasure. He shifts a little and plunges deeper with the better angle, speeding up the tempo and digging his fingers a little harder into her hip.
He leans down again, pressing kisses along her cheek, her jaw, her shoulder, murmuring something to her in his own language, because at the moment he can't quite make his brain work out English. In fact, he isn't exactly sure what he's saying in Gallifreyan either, but he had a need to vocalize just how amazing it feels to be with her like this; to be enveloped by her.
One word in English does come out repeatedly, amid all the incoherent Gallifreyan babble: her name.]
[ It wouldn't be the first time she'd heard the musical language, though of course she'd no idea what it meant. Nor did it seem to matter, in the end. Her name was a recognizable tune, and for now, that was enough.
She shudders as he sinks deeper, groaning and gasping and biting her lip. Five in the morning is no time to start alerting the entire third floor that you're getting fucked, one might figure. Though her level of care on the subject was quickly dissolving with the growing burn in her belly. Evidently she was a lot more worked up then she'd initially thought. All the better to have her arms around his toros, holding him to her so she could curl herself, let him hit home with a near-perfect angle.
Where her name stood out amongst myriad of music and alien language, his stood stark amidst a chorus of gasps ans growing moans. ]
[Yes, not alerting the whole floor of their lovemaking is indeed a good idea. He isn't quite sure how he's going to manage that fairly soon, but at least he knows it's a good idea.
There are times when the brain fails during sex, and then comes the stage when it is suddenly awake and aware of everything. Suddenly, you're aware of every sensation in exquisite detail, every bit of tingling flesh and tightening muscles, even if you'd rather not be aware of it so that you can make the moment last longer.
He releases her hip, suddenly aware that if he keeps tightening his grip, he's going to bruise her. And then, the thought crosses his mind to tilt his hips just a bit to give himself room, and put that newly free hand to good use. His thumb finds that lovely little nub of flesh and nerves and slides over it, then around it, then across it again.
Finally finding English again out of sheer necessity, he whispers hoarsely between panting breaths and uneven thrusts.]
Rose...I-I- I can't... [Another quiet, desperate little moan escapes.] hold on much longer...
[ No, there wouldn't be much lasting at this wee hour in the morning. Not with emotions and hormones flying at such high levels, enveloping them both with an attempt to try and snuff every last inhibition.
So she whines when he removes his grip, having come to like the possessiveness of it-- though she can't say she's ready to complain for where it relocates. Her mouth is too full of sharper gasps, little hisses and shuddered, not-quite words. It's nearly a distraction until she hears his voice again, in proper English this time. She doesn't move, lest her concentration falter, lest the rapidly building heat cease it's burn. Instead, she bites her lip and nods, sharp and many, even as her face contorts in what might be a grimace, cheeks flushing darker and darker in the dim of the room. ]
Y-yesyes it's okay, s'okay jus'-- Just--
[ She suddenly has to smack his hand away, replace it with her own as her back uncurls, flopping back against the bed, knees up and feet planting to shift the angle again, send him half an inch deeper (she shouts once), and he'd better get the idea of it, because she's going to kill him if he doesn't. ]
[She shifts and he plunges deeper, echoing her shout with one of his own. With his hand once again free, he wraps his arms around her fully, enveloping her as he tries to hold onto that angle with his hips, reveling in just how deep inside he is. His forehead comes to rest in the soft curve where her neck meets her shoulder and closes his eyes, letting that unbearable, amazing wave of sensation take him. To hell with holding back anymore.
His breathing hitches and his hips speed up, thrusting and grinding against her. He forgets the idea to keep quiet for the neighbors as the wave of pleasure catches up to him and crashes down onto him with startling force. Another shout rips from him and he plunges in deep and holds himself there as the orgasm takes hold of him fully, his breath held until he's fully spent. And only then does he begin to breathe again.]
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It has been so long now since he's been able to sleep at all, let alone so comfortably. Now that he's cleansed, he knows how little sleep he truly got, since Thiazi would take his body as soon as night fell and made him do such truly horrible things. His own nightmares make him shiver, and unfortunately his nightmares aren't caused by the corruption, but his own guilt.
He remains asleep for a little while after she wakes up, his arms still holding her close to her body. And then, he's slowly subconsciously aware that she's awake and his eyes blink open, gazing blearily at her. When she flops her head back down, he's fully awake then and lifts his head from the pillow to look down at her.]
Rose? Are you alright?
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Sorry- yeah. M'fine. You might be all cleaned up, but I'm still-- Sleep is difficult.
[ And with a groan, she burrows herself against his chest, seemingly ignorant of her inhibitions in the still half-groggy state she's wading in. ]
Didn't mean t'wake you too.
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No, no, it's alright. I may be cleaned up, but I still remember everything, so I wasn't sleeping very soundly anyway.
[Having her against his chest feels nice. Very nice. In his own half-groggy state, he's only barely aware of his heart picking up speed just a little. He adjusts his position on the bed to rest more fully on it, wrapping both arms around her now and holding her close to him.]
I'm sure the gods will have a way to fix it soon enough.
Is there anything I can do to help?
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... The temptation to ask if he remembered at all what happened during his fugue states is there, but she stores it away. Not the time. Definitely, absolutely not the time. ]
Mm. Dunno. You could distract me?
[ ... She does mean that innocently enough. Honest. ]
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And, ah...how would you prefer to be distracted?
[Sure. Innocent.]
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Well. You could always kiss me again. If you like.
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This. This is definitely a good suggestion. He gently pulls her up a bit more so her lips are within reach and tilts his head to capture her mouth with his. His kiss the night before hadn't been chaste and neither is this one. Even less so, due to the haze of just waking up, combined with the warmth and comfort of being cocooned under a blanket with another body pressed against him.
It's a kiss that's slow and languid, as if he has all the time in the world. And really, it's really far too early in the morning and they have nowhere to go. Of course he has the time to kiss Rose properly.]
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His hands suddenly need something to do other than cling to her, and so he slides them under the shirt of her pajamas, his palms flat against the bare skin of her back.
He almost thinks to pull back and ask her if she's sure about this, but at the moment, he can't bring himself to stop kissing her just this moment.]
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It might also feel nice when her own hands start to wander. Nothing fancy yet, but with him being quite topless
ignore my earlier statements of shirt-grabbing whatit's more than easy to slide her hands up to his collarbone, down again to his ribs and maybe her nails are dragging a little bit more than absolutely necessary. ]action
His mouth now roams as well, moving from her lips to kiss his way to her neck, nipping lightly once he reaches the point where her neck curves to meet her shoulder.]
Rose...?
[It's more of a request than anything that's whispered against her skin. Please don't make him stop. Not now. He cares not one bit if he seems lacking in self-control. It's been a long, horrible time for them both, and he desperately wants this. Let them forget the weeks that past, at least for a little while.]
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One of her hands slides up and into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp in the gentlest way as he queries her name. Her only response however, is to pull back and look down at him, just for a moment. Her eyes may have adjusted somewhat to the darkness of the room, and she may be able to just see the outline of his face... But it's enough. Just a little reminder that he's really there, alive and well and ... gods, under her, in her bed.
So she kisses him again, just this side of chaste. That should be answer enough. ]
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His hands slide up again, pushing up her top as he does so, leaning forward to kiss whatever bit of skin he can reach. He tosses it aside when he manages to pull it free and then comes back for more, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of her pajama bottoms.
After a moment's thought, he changes tack, moving one arm around her instead so he can turn with her so that he's now lying on top before returning to the rest of her clothing. His mouth captures hers again and he tugs at the bottoms, sliding them slowly down her hips.]
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And it really is hard to try and keep a train of thought when your shirt is getting tugged over your head, tossed to the ground and you're being manhandled onto your back. Perhaps focusing on that would be more beneficial to both parties.
Her breath is already beginning to gust in her lungs as he slips his tongue against her own (or maybe that was the other way around) and she can feel his fingers grasping for the edges of her pyjama shorts, sliding them down until she's left in nothing but her knickers. She feels on fire already, hands at the sides of his face, holding him against her briefly before dashing off, down his shoulders and arms once, slipping to his waist and in a deft sort of move, she's pulling him down between her legs, hips to hips- just for a moment. And if a wandering hand manages to sneak a few fingers just below his own waistband to scratch a little, well. She's got a feeling he won't mind too much. ]
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His lips are on the move again, kissing his way down her neck and chest until he reaches one nipple and gently sucks it into his mouth. Then, deciding to give her hand more room, he pulls his boxers down his hips and kicks them off, leaving him fully exposed to her at last.]
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But she will readily agree about their being a little too much fabric left between them, even if it's merely a bit of cloth covering the important bits. It might just feel like a parka once his mouth reaches her chest, eliciting a delightful little noise out of her throat. And then he's kicking off his boxers and she's gasping a little because while she can't really see anything, she can definitely feel him. Hot and hard and leaving her hips to buck slightly upwards against him, as if trying to coax some further action from him.
Instead, she reaches down, only a little awkwardly, and tugs down her own underwear, bumping him once or twice with her knee (and a chuckle), before flinging them off to some other part of her room. For a moment, a full body shiver seems to quake across her, shuddering her breath into a strange sort of inhale. ]
Doctor...
[ Because why use silly numbers, when she has a feeling his name is going to be much more effective. Even in her sleep-addled, semi delirious state, she knows what she wants. Who she wants. And if consequences come later, then damn them to later. ]
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Thankfully, he doesn't have to wait long before she's wiggling out of her underwear. They're both loopy and tired, and he gives a breathy laugh when they knock knees in the struggle. And then...oh. There's nothing more between them. If he thought his heart was pounding before, it's practically trying to burst out of his chest now. They've reached the point of no return.
He positions himself, gazing down at her in the half-light, and then she says his name. That's when he's truly lost. His eyes close and he slides home.]
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She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until he slides in, only wincing once because it's been a long, long time since anyone had ever joined with her like this. But she swallows, licks her lips and has to pull him down again, has to kiss him hard and devouring because maybe, just maybe, it'll distract from how terrified she is her heart might explode. ]
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Rose? Did I-- [And the rest of his question is lost to her fierce kiss.
He can't remain still for long; the ache is too much to bear after a moment. Still mindful of the wince, he begins slowly, as slow as he dares without driving himself mad. He slides one arm behind her shoulder blade, while his other hand grasps her hip, holding onto her for dear life.
This is all a dream. It has to be. Soon he'll wake up alone, still curled up in the burnt-out shell of a building. Things like this didn't happen, not to him. Not more than once, and he'd had his one chance. And then a shiver of pleasure washes over him, eliciting another moan, louder than before. No, this has to be real. No dream is this good.]
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She groans into their kiss as he begins to move, thrusting slow but still with enough force to have her shivering. Moments later, her hands are sliding up his back, clinging and holding for leverage so she can arch her back, just enough to try and rock her hips in tandem with his. Evidently, either it didn't take much for him to get her worked up, or she'd been ready a lot sooner than she let on. ]
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He leans down again, pressing kisses along her cheek, her jaw, her shoulder, murmuring something to her in his own language, because at the moment he can't quite make his brain work out English. In fact, he isn't exactly sure what he's saying in Gallifreyan either, but he had a need to vocalize just how amazing it feels to be with her like this; to be enveloped by her.
One word in English does come out repeatedly, amid all the incoherent Gallifreyan babble: her name.]
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She shudders as he sinks deeper, groaning and gasping and biting her lip. Five in the morning is no time to start alerting the entire third floor that you're getting fucked, one might figure. Though her level of care on the subject was quickly dissolving with the growing burn in her belly. Evidently she was a lot more worked up then she'd initially thought. All the better to have her arms around his toros, holding him to her so she could curl herself, let him hit home with a near-perfect angle.
Where her name stood out amongst myriad of music and alien language, his stood stark amidst a chorus of gasps ans growing moans. ]
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There are times when the brain fails during sex, and then comes the stage when it is suddenly awake and aware of everything. Suddenly, you're aware of every sensation in exquisite detail, every bit of tingling flesh and tightening muscles, even if you'd rather not be aware of it so that you can make the moment last longer.
He releases her hip, suddenly aware that if he keeps tightening his grip, he's going to bruise her. And then, the thought crosses his mind to tilt his hips just a bit to give himself room, and put that newly free hand to good use. His thumb finds that lovely little nub of flesh and nerves and slides over it, then around it, then across it again.
Finally finding English again out of sheer necessity, he whispers hoarsely between panting breaths and uneven thrusts.]
Rose...I-I- I can't... [Another quiet, desperate little moan escapes.] hold on much longer...
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So she whines when he removes his grip, having come to like the possessiveness of it-- though she can't say she's ready to complain for where it relocates. Her mouth is too full of sharper gasps, little hisses and shuddered, not-quite words. It's nearly a distraction until she hears his voice again, in proper English this time. She doesn't move, lest her concentration falter, lest the rapidly building heat cease it's burn. Instead, she bites her lip and nods, sharp and many, even as her face contorts in what might be a grimace, cheeks flushing darker and darker in the dim of the room. ]
Y-yesyes it's okay, s'okay jus'-- Just--
[ She suddenly has to smack his hand away, replace it with her own as her back uncurls, flopping back against the bed, knees up and feet planting to shift the angle again, send him half an inch deeper (she shouts once), and he'd better get the idea of it, because she's going to kill him if he doesn't. ]
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His breathing hitches and his hips speed up, thrusting and grinding against her. He forgets the idea to keep quiet for the neighbors as the wave of pleasure catches up to him and crashes down onto him with startling force. Another shout rips from him and he plunges in deep and holds himself there as the orgasm takes hold of him fully, his breath held until he's fully spent. And only then does he begin to breathe again.]
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