There’s no helping any of the reactions she has. So when he sighs, when he moves, Gaea can’t help but clench and shudder. Despite two orgasms and maybe because of them, her body feels like a live wire with everything connected to her clit. But rather than once again going, Jake allows her hips to settle once more and she sighs, falling back onto the couch and running her hands back through her hair.
He says it’s like she’s his. She needs to reassure him. ❝ Not like, ❞ she tells him, running her hands up his arms. She’s been his for a while now. Maybe since the first time they shared a bed.
Their first kiss, first time. Back to back in a matter of who knows how long. It’s overwhelming in the best way and she wonders if they had just been leading up to this. Their friendship, their separation and then the pandemic that happened in the snowy country they called home: despite it all, they found a home. She closes her eyes and gasps softly as he adjusts them, hooking her leg over his hip and clenching tight to keep him inside.
❝ I’m incredible, ❞ she tells him, pressing a kiss to his chest. ❝ Never better. ❞ Another kiss. ❝ I didn’t think you … ❞ She didn’t think he felt any of the things that she did for him.
Jake doesn’t notice how sweaty he is until Gaea kisses him, her lips cool against his damp skin. But that brief spot of contact has him cupping her cheek in his free hand (the other rests, possessive, on the swell of her thigh until it creeps up to small of her back), and though Gaea trails off in thought, all Jake does in return is catch her lips just as she finishes speaking.
“Didn’t think what?” he mumbles once it ends, his hand trailing up so he can card his fingers through her hair instead. There’s a bit of reverence to the touch, a sort of otherworldly sense in Jake’s mind as he wonders how in the hell it is Gaea is letting him do this, but then again...
The pressure around his cock is a definite reminder of what they’d done. Of what, specifically, he’d done-- inside her, even. Jake’s dick even twitches at the memory of it.
Still, for now Jake doesn’t think about what he’s done often leads to. Not when he’s busy pressing kiss after kiss over Gaea’s cheeks, and her nose, and her lashes and her lips.
“Maybe you don’t have to think.” He grins enough to show the sharp edge of a canine. “I just know” -- one more kiss, because he can’t help it -- “you told me you were mine, G.”
Jake probably sounds too excited about it.
