It didn't matter how many times Eliza told him she found him hot. Every time she did, he felt a little zing deep inside his chest. It also didn't matter that by this point, they'd been together for years, that all his first were hers and they'd been here often enough for them to become familiar. He didn't think he'd ever get over that feeling of being a nerdy, slightly dorky-looking boy with glow in the dark star stickers on his bedroom ceiling, unable to believe that the pretty girl in his lap had actually chosen him back. He didn't respond further, given that his mouth was occupied with her chest, her reaction causing him to smirk against her skin and linger there a bit longer than necessary, because he couldn't help himself. It was harder to keep up than it should have been, though, the press of her hips eliciting a hiss on his end. He broke away, hands settling at her hips to guide her movements and lips returning to hers again. "You feel what you're doing to me?" He murmured in between kissing her, punctuating his question with a slight thrust upwards.
It was almost like perfect machinery, the way they moved together and against each other. Elijah somehow knew the exact places she wanted him to touch, and she didn't even have to say a word. Maybe that was part of why Eliza couldn't ever imagine all of this with anyone else. In her mind, no one else even existed. They especially didn't exist when his words had her attention completely locked in on him. Something between a gasp and a moan escaped as she felt the thrust from his end. "Yeah. Wouldn't mind feeling it more," she admitted a bit breathlessly, using that as an excuse to unzip and slide her jeans off. She knew very well what she was doing. She had no intention to stop, either. Considering she liked things to be fair, though, she took the moment of separation to help him out of his own pants as well before resuming her position from before with a few less layers. "Now, where were we? Oh, right." She dropped herself downwards, unable to hold back the noises that escaped upon impact. They weren't fucking yet, but they might as well had been. She attempted to muffle any whimpers against his lips by kissing him, but that proved more difficult as her hips desperately moved along with his. What was supposed to be making out essentially turned into her moaning into his mouth. "Please," she whispered, pretty sure she didn't need to explain what she wanted.











