She's going to be a renewed mess by the time they're through, his blood and sweat and saliva smeared on her, and in a sense, she doesn't care. In another sense, she revels in it, the same way she's leaving her scent behind on him, lilac and gooseberry intermingled with the natural arousal between her legs that enables her to move a little more readily on him.
Her fingers slide up into his hair, as he latches onto her breasts, cradling him there against her, urging him on with breathless moans and gasps. The more attention he pays, the more aroused she becomes, and the more frictionless her movements. For a while, there aren't any words between them, just noises — soft whimpers from her, audible suction where his lips are tugging at a nipple, the steadily building slickness as she rocks up and down his length. It may not be the best place to do this, not on the hardwood flooring, but she's too desperate for him to care, too desiring to wait a second longer.
Fuck, how she makes him ache, even as she sates him. The hard surface and seated angle don't give him the ability to thrust, so he's stuck letting her ride him out. It's a different sensation the longer it goes on, and it's ever so delicious. It's not purely submissive, though he loves the way she holds him to her. Nor is it her using him for the rigidity of his prick, purely for her own pleasure.
It's giving and taking, and it leaves him heady in shared want. The more eager her bounce, the rougher she's met in answer; he tries to pull her down on him, as if it would compensate for his lack of upward thrust; his hand at her hip or the nape of her neck as the other tugs one nipple, and his mouth set to the other. Too often, he's left to trap it between his teeth while he fights to suck in short breaths around it in between groans. His toes flex as she urges him on towards his climax.
There's little elegance in this, simply feeling, and reaching for what feels good in the moment itself. Yennefer's own movements become harder, and jerking, rapidly so, until she's all but bouncing herself in his lap, a slave to sensations and seeking release for all the pent-up frustration that the stage performance had left her with. She's no longer tense, warmed by his hands and the soak in the bath, and it enables her to move with more abandon, ignoring any lingering ache from bruises or scratches that Khoriya's more vigorous pantomimes had inadvertently left behind.
Sweeney catches one of her nipples between his teeth and she cries out — not in pain, but in overwhelm, the tension in her body beginning to reach a peak that she knows will shatter but trying to stave it off for as long as she can. She wants him there with her, when she comes, wants to feel him pulse and throb inside her while she clenches and squeezes tight around him. It makes her movements even more erratic in the interim, her breathing sharper and hitching, as their sounds of pleasure build to become a louder chorus.
One of the struggles of the position is Sweeney has so little control over himself. He wants to feel her climax before he dares to, but it's her who is commanding the pace and force of the taking; he's really just along for the ride. The lingering pain of the night's prior activities only makes each touch more intense and raw.
Fuck, how it feels to be inside her. For her to take him. Choose him. Claim him.
There's nothin he can do when he senses the inevitable, except grab both of her hips hard enough to threaten bruises and yank down, leaving her grinding on him as he loses himself inside her. The force catches her nipple more tightly between his teeth as he cries out around it, his body unwilling to sacrifice the contact, no matter how slight. Once he's able to start the slope down the other side, he sucks it back firmly between his lips, working it eagerly as he pulses deep in her.
She'd swear he gets that much harder inside her right before he comes — cock throbbing, twitching as he spills deep — and those pulsations are what finally propel her over the edge right alongside him, alongside his teeth tugging on her nipple, to the point where she's convinced they may have even managed to climax simultaneously without even consciously trying to.
In his lap, she's shuddering, quaking even with his hands clamped down on her hips, keeping her from being able to move too drastically; when his teeth on her nipple turn into a warm, hard suction, she whines, grinding herself on him, prolonging those intense waves of her climax until she finally sags in his arms, unable to even so much as think about moving.
There's something to be said for the sublime sensation of being taken. To feel the proof of her pleasure with each quivering clench, her body fighting to steal every bit of him that it can; oh, how it make him ache, even in his satisfaction. It leaves him hungry for the next time, even if it's something that will require reprieve before attempting. That doesn't mean it isn't present in his thoughts.
As her body starts to go slack, Sweeney releases her nipple and draws a lapping line up her breast to her throat, truncating it at her ear. In tandem, he starts to curl back to lay on the floor so he can cradle her against him and idly stroke her hair as they glow in shared bliss.
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Her fingers slide up into his hair, as he latches onto her breasts, cradling him there against her, urging him on with breathless moans and gasps. The more attention he pays, the more aroused she becomes, and the more frictionless her movements. For a while, there aren't any words between them, just noises — soft whimpers from her, audible suction where his lips are tugging at a nipple, the steadily building slickness as she rocks up and down his length. It may not be the best place to do this, not on the hardwood flooring, but she's too desperate for him to care, too desiring to wait a second longer.
no subject
It's giving and taking, and it leaves him heady in shared want. The more eager her bounce, the rougher she's met in answer; he tries to pull her down on him, as if it would compensate for his lack of upward thrust; his hand at her hip or the nape of her neck as the other tugs one nipple, and his mouth set to the other. Too often, he's left to trap it between his teeth while he fights to suck in short breaths around it in between groans. His toes flex as she urges him on towards his climax.
no subject
Sweeney catches one of her nipples between his teeth and she cries out — not in pain, but in overwhelm, the tension in her body beginning to reach a peak that she knows will shatter but trying to stave it off for as long as she can. She wants him there with her, when she comes, wants to feel him pulse and throb inside her while she clenches and squeezes tight around him. It makes her movements even more erratic in the interim, her breathing sharper and hitching, as their sounds of pleasure build to become a louder chorus.
no subject
Fuck, how it feels to be inside her. For her to take him. Choose him. Claim him.
There's nothin he can do when he senses the inevitable, except grab both of her hips hard enough to threaten bruises and yank down, leaving her grinding on him as he loses himself inside her. The force catches her nipple more tightly between his teeth as he cries out around it, his body unwilling to sacrifice the contact, no matter how slight. Once he's able to start the slope down the other side, he sucks it back firmly between his lips, working it eagerly as he pulses deep in her.
no subject
In his lap, she's shuddering, quaking even with his hands clamped down on her hips, keeping her from being able to move too drastically; when his teeth on her nipple turn into a warm, hard suction, she whines, grinding herself on him, prolonging those intense waves of her climax until she finally sags in his arms, unable to even so much as think about moving.
no subject
As her body starts to go slack, Sweeney releases her nipple and draws a lapping line up her breast to her throat, truncating it at her ear. In tandem, he starts to curl back to lay on the floor so he can cradle her against him and idly stroke her hair as they glow in shared bliss.