Fuck. Her moans a symphony to his ear. One he could replay on repeat without thinking. His own crying out to her, clamoring for more. Anything it seems to prolong the captured bliss, the tension of want and need that seem to hang over the precipice of him, always hungry, always needing a little bit more.
He exhales slowly, carefully through his nose; His body a hard wire, taught and prodding, a groan of his own trapped in his chest as he takes nothing more than a leeway, not even an invitation, to embolden himself and take over. Pushing himself up swiftly, sitting upright with him still lodged inside her. Hands dragging down her thighs and up again, leaving marks with his fingers and finding his grip back over her hips. Tugging down, hard and rough, furthering the depths at this new angle and allowing his lips to latch onto neck, to shoulder, to chest, leave marks that would match the scars that littered her frame.
The room fills with only the sound of their bodies as they collide together, pulling out moans in a song of desire. Diana grinds her hips down into his. The excitement of hands all over her body. Exploring. Worshipping. Using. Wanting. And she’s his. Bound by love and desire, gifts of Aphrodite.
The Amazon snakes her hand between the two of them. Fingertips teasing at her clit. Fingernails gently catching upon the bundle of nerves, sending a shiver down her spine. Diana captures Bruce’s lips with hers. A kiss that’s all teeth and hunger, nipping at his lips. She rocks her hips against him, her fingers finding a perfect rhythm with her motions. “Almost,” she pants against his lips.
