Take Your Time ⊹₊ Miguel O’Hara blurb
“Take your time,” he whispers. It’s out of breath, shallow from the bottom of his lungs. You’re on top of him; he’s stuffed between tight, wet walls, one hand gripping your hip, the other hand holding yours as you cling onto his shoulder. He looks up at you, trying to read your face, feeling which angle, how much pressure to push into you, calculating what brings you closer to the edge. He grips you harder, his hands now wrapped around your ankles tightly.
You can feel it, the beginning of your end, it comes and goes. You grind slowly against him, trying to find which angle lets him in the deepest. He’s so patient, letting you use him until you cum.
Eyebrows furrowed, you speed up then down, cursing, impatient. “Don’t rush, baby. Find it. We have all night,” he pants, brushing your hair out of your face.
You lean down, your tits pressed up against his chest, spilling onto him. That’s when you find it.
Lips to his jaw, then to his neck, then back up to his lips, you breathe in his breath. You moan into each other’s mouths.
“Did you find it, baby? Does it feel good?” he asks, between kisses. You groan in response, “Just like that,” you manage, “Gonna make me cum, Mig,” you whine. He hums in response, “Mhmm baby, good girl, god, you’re so good. You’re almost there.”
He pushes and pulls you on his length, the angle is perfect. Slowly, his groans grow, breathing louder. He throws his head back, “Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” He’s pushing against your walls, his tip rubbing into the tightest corner of you. He squeezes your thighs, hands traveling up and down your body, he tries to hold it for you—doesn’t want to finish until your walls are fluttering around him.
“I’m gonna—” you whimper, “I know, I know,” he pants, pushing and pulling your hips. “Fuck, fuck, baby. You’re gonna make me—” you moan. You start to lose strength, rhythm, control over your body. He takes over as you begin to unravel. “You found it, baby, it’s all yours. Keep going, it’s yours.” Your thighs tighten around him, “Come on, angel. Just like that,” he groans, looking up at you. This glance pushes him over the edge. You’ve collapsed on him, his fingers dig into pudge, he releases into you as you throb around him. You’re full of him, it makes you want to keep grinding despite utter exhaustion, to just feel him fill you up, as deeply as possible. He smiles at your shallow movements, he knows what you’re doing.
You groan, kissing his cheek. He hums, brushing your hair to the side. “Kiss me,” he whispers. You kiss him, then bite his lip. He sucks your bottom lip before fangs nip you right back.
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