the Tale of Sir Isaac

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

She’d never seen /that/ look on his face before. Loving and scolding and sad, all at the same time. Before she could really think about it, he kissed her, and shifted slightly, and all she could do was moan, shifting her hips in reply, begging with her body since he had her mouth stopped. She needed him to move.

He easily drank in her moans, tongue sliding into her lips to tangle with hers as his hips rocked slightly. He wanted to keep it soft and gentle for now, until he grew accustomed to love-making outside, and there definitely was something quite thrilling about it.

She shuddered beneath him, matching his rhythm. They fell into a slow, rippling motion that had her seeing stars almost immediately, coupled with continuous moaning. It wasn’t like the crashing climaxes of previous couplings; it was more inexorable than that, like the best kind of drunk with no fear of hangovers.

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