/. Reaper x you..
Gabriel lounges back, cigarette dangling from his lips, his gaze burning into yours as you bounce on his thick shaft. His chin rests on his fist as he watches you. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, desperate sounds falling from your lips while chasing that sweet release. Suddenly, his hands clamp onto your hips, yanking you down roughly as he slams home. You cry out as his cockhead batter against that deep, hidden spot, waves of pleasure crashing through you. As you spasm and drench his lap, a wicked grin spreads across Gabriel's face. He starts thrusting upward slowly, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls. This round has barely begun.
The last wave of your climax rolls through you, leaving you limp and shuddering, your forehead pressed into the crook of his neck. You can feel the frantic, rabbit-fast beat of your own heart against his solid chest. But Gabriel is a monument of stillness beneath you, save for the slow, deliberate roll of his hips. His movement isn't rushed; it's possessive, a languid, deep drag of his cock against your oversensitive walls that forces a helpless, broken sound from your lips. He's not letting you come down, not letting you recover. He's holding you right there on the knife's edge.
"Look at me." he commands, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your entire body. It takes a monumental effort to lift your head, to force your heavy eyelids open. His gaze is dark, burning with an intensity that steals the air from your lungs. He takes a final, long drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing a fierce red in the dim light. With the smoke still caught in his chest, he leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that's all heat and possessive pressure. He doesn't just kiss you; he breathes the smoke into you, a shared, intimate cloud that blurs the edges of the world and leaves you feeling dizzy and utterly owned by him.
The thick heat of his release floods you, so deep it steals your breath and pulls a long, broken whine from your throat. Your body gives out, boneless and trembling, collapsing against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat is a solid, grounding presence beneath your ear as exhaustion and satisfaction wash over you in equal waves.
"Good pet." he rumbles, the words a rough caress against your temple. The praise is a possessive brand, searing itself into your memory. Gabriel brings the cigarette back to his lips, the faint crackle of burning tobacco the only sound in the suddenly heavy silence. His cock softens inside you, still thick and present, claiming you even in the aftermath. He makes no move to withdraw, as if the intimacy of this moment, this connection, is as natural and necessary as breathing.
