the biggest challenge i have when topping is making myself stop.
i want to have her on her back, knees pressed up toward her chest, whining into my mouth as i fuck into her nice and slow. keeping my thrusts shallow at first, letting her adjust to the stretch. i’ll have one hand on her cheek, thumb stroking her jaw, and the other braced beside her head so i can watch her eyes roll back and every muscle in her face go slack when i finally bottom out.
she’ll cum once around me, and then again, and then again, each one messier than the last. she’ll be clawing at my shoulders, at the sheets, at my waist, mindlessly repeating my name and whatever slurred pleas she could piece together. i’ll feel her clench down around me, listening to the way her breath stutters between desperate sounds, and i’ll realize that i still need more. so i’ll keep going, chasing that fucked-out look in her eyes until she finally starts to go quiet, her body limp and twitching underneath me.
eventually i’ll force myself to slow my hips and ease out of her, eyes fixated on the way her body clenches around nothing. fighting to resist the urge to taste the mess i created. i’ll lay against the pillows and pull her up onto my chest, her cheek pressed against my collarbone, lips parted as she tries to remember how to breathe properly. her mind will be drifting, barely verbal, just soft little sounds dragged out on a broken exhale every time i shift. i’ll wrap my arms around her, one hand splayed over her back, the other reaching between our bodies, fingers slowly drifting back where they belong. and i know i won’t be able to stop touching her, just as well as i know she won’t stop me.
i’ll let my hand move almost without thinking, two fingers sliding through the mess i’d made of her, feeling how wet and warm and sensitive she still is. she’ll jerk immediately, a strained little whine catching in her throat as she buries her face against my neck. she’ll protest, almost enough to convince herself she doesn’t want it, and i’ll shush her sweetly between kisses to the top of her head. my fingers will press inside, slow and lazy, just to feel the way she flutters around me. no rhythm, no intention of getting her off again, just this indulgent need to keep her full of me, to feel every tiny twitch as she squirms. her nails will dig into my shoulder as she clings to me, legs shifting restlessly as she tries to get away and push closer at the same time. her protests will come out wrecked and useless, but every time my fingers curl, her hips will roll right back into my palm.
i’ll have her like that, draped over me and whining into my ear, teeth scraping my skin when a particularly sharp aftershock hits. i won’t even be fucking her properly anymore, just lazily dragging my fingers in and out, feeling how she clenches down on every slow thrust. the bed will be a mess beneath us, her thighs slick and trembling as she tries to hide her face from me, from what i’m doing to her. i’ll rub my free hand back and forth across her back, pretending this is soothing, pretending i’m just helping her come down, even as i can feel her building again in these tiny, involuntary waves she can’t control. she’ll be moaning into my neck, half sobs and half laughter, telling me i’m greedy, that i said we were done, that she can’t take another one, while her body tells a completely different story.
and i’ll keep going just like that, slow and selfish and so impossibly sweet, until all she can do is whine into my ear in that desperate and broken way that makes pulling away so impossible.
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