trafalgar law who prefers fingering over eating you out because he can hold you, snug against his side with one arm around your waist or shoulders, the other arm nestled between your thighs, two long, tattooed digits knuckle deep inside of your wet cunt.
trafalgar law who examines your face the entire time with such an intensity that you’re forced to look away, watching every single twitch and change of expression so he knows when you’re close.
trafalgar law who lets you pant into his mouth, pressing the most feather-light and clumsy kisses against your lips because he knows you don’t have the energy to properly kiss him while his fingers crook inside of you, pressing against that spongy spot repeatedly.
trafalgar law who uses his free hand to palm your breasts, run over your soft tummy, touches you anywhere and everywhere he can reach to get you closer to the edge.
trafalgar law who tells you to rub your clit once he sees you getting close, feels you clenching around his fingers more rapidly, muttering a low and gentle “touch yourself” against the heated skin of your cheek and pressing a kiss to it as if to reward you for obeying.
trafalgar law who tugs you closer as you finally come around his fingers, pressing his lips to yours in a messy and nasty kiss that’s all tongue in an attempt to swallow your pretty moans.
