[ An awe he finds in her down to the wanton noises each stroke down the length in him brings out of her. The glide of her hips slipping ever so easier as her want drips and mops over him. His hips rock up higher against her, pushing against her between his hips and down from his arms. Stifling the flow of their bodies to grind slow and shallow. Drawing out a deep moan buried into the crook of her neck. To feel this satisfying when only pressed against her. He rues the vividness of what could be to feel it inside of her. To feel her quiver around him. He wants every moan to vibrate down into him. ]
I am yours. [ The words are breathless out of his mouth. Cradled into her, his mouth barely parted from flesh. A pale mark left upon the curve of her neck he has yet to realize he made. He is hers, he has always been hers. It is purpose, it is meaning. And now his pleasure canโt seem to be imagined without her. Turned into her hands that stokes a fire in him never felt before. Pales to anyone or anything that might have come before her.
Gods be good, he may consider praying after this. When it becomes his own pleasure, the selfish want and hunger for more of it. The pleasure that mounts feels like stone running through his veins. He feels parched for breath and yet canโt keep his mouth off of her. Wanting it to travel. To taste every inch of her. Want to feel as much of her when she quivers. He feels the pull of decadence, molten heat of want that feels as intense as violence.
Aemondโs hand draws up her back, long fingers tapering into the curls at the nape of her neck. Holding her there, one hand at the nape and the other at the back of her thigh. He needs her to come again, he needs to feel her and drag him down with her. ]
Think of me inside you. Drown me in your rapture. Let it devour me, mother.
[ The heat in his throat burns so hot his words sound like steam against her ear. Shuffled between short breaths pressing with the roll of their hips. Deep and desperate to find the bottom to what feels like drowning in syrup. Itโs close, itโs mounting. In the void under his clutched eye, he feels himself beginning to spiral. ]
no subject
I am yours. [ The words are breathless out of his mouth. Cradled into her, his mouth barely parted from flesh. A pale mark left upon the curve of her neck he has yet to realize he made. He is hers, he has always been hers. It is purpose, it is meaning. And now his pleasure canโt seem to be imagined without her. Turned into her hands that stokes a fire in him never felt before. Pales to anyone or anything that might have come before her.
Gods be good, he may consider praying after this. When it becomes his own pleasure, the selfish want and hunger for more of it. The pleasure that mounts feels like stone running through his veins. He feels parched for breath and yet canโt keep his mouth off of her. Wanting it to travel. To taste every inch of her. Want to feel as much of her when she quivers. He feels the pull of decadence, molten heat of want that feels as intense as violence.
Aemondโs hand draws up her back, long fingers tapering into the curls at the nape of her neck. Holding her there, one hand at the nape and the other at the back of her thigh. He needs her to come again, he needs to feel her and drag him down with her. ]
Think of me inside you. Drown me in your rapture. Let it devour me, mother.
[ The heat in his throat burns so hot his words sound like steam against her ear. Shuffled between short breaths pressing with the roll of their hips. Deep and desperate to find the bottom to what feels like drowning in syrup. Itโs close, itโs mounting. In the void under his clutched eye, he feels himself beginning to spiral. ]