hhh thinkin about choking simon while you’re riding him. his eyes are blown wide open, his face flushed with oversensitivity. he bucks his hips up every time you bounce, his moans slipping past his gritted teeth like a murmured grunt.
“fuck, baby,” you keen, your voice a hissed lilt. “so thick ‘round me.”
“shit,” simon rasps, going cross-eyed at how good everything feels—the warm press of your walls around him, your hand tight around his neck. it’s not that your grip is even strong, but the constant pressure of your hold grounds him; it fills him up with razing euphoria.
he adores having you this way, all dominant and in control of him; all snarled grin and teasing mewls. he’s putty in your hand, all for you to use, and simon is dizzy at the thought of it.
you giggle, tapping at his lips. “open wide, baby.”
simon breathes in sharply, his nose flaring in his excitement. he follows your command with obedience, his tongue lolling out slightly because he knows what will come next.
you lean forward just enough that your nose brushes against him before spitting in his mouth, and simon groans, throbbing with desire.
you watch him swallow it down with a fevered smile, your cheeks round in your own drunken happiness.
“good boy,” you trill, leaving open-mouth kisses along his jaw.
