velvetfilth.
she’s used to being in control, to finding him soft & slow & pliant beneath her fingers as she works. she’d come to like it —– the tedious way they came together & fell apart. that he made her WAIT. (wait, little girl, be patient now) it gave her something to look forward to. but this, his hands & his mouth devouring skin, heat blooming, trailing, in their wake, it satisfies the ugly need deep inside. & like some living thing it crawls the walls of her throat & frees itself from her lips in a moan. vulgar. choked.
another roll of her hips, a heavy grinding against his bones — harder, harder, just as he wants & she always needs. fingers bunch the fabric of his shirt into fists, her head thrown back & to the side as she watches him taste her from a tilted point of view. it’s enough to make her dizzy. make her wet.
she whines. more.
the heated body against his , heavy and almost limbs as it rocked against him made everything almost seem too real. no , not in the way he would believe it all to be fake , a lie. it just felt heavy and raw. something he had never felt before. the lips on her neck drew away now with only hot breath brushing the surface as he trailed a hand over her upper thigh to a place more sacred. fingers trickled over her lower stomach , at the hem of her shorts only to trail further down and brush where sensitivity and pleasure became best friends. even he felt an itch in his pants. but she still had to wait.
