He hums, pulling the blankets up over the two of them and he wraps his arms around her waist, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “Don’t thank me.”
“Why not?” Her voice is drowsy, cuddling into his hold. She makes a face when she remembers she’s half-in and half-out of her dress, and struggles upright to finish taking it off. Naked, she settles back down and nestles back into Mordred’s arms. “It was very nice. I hope,” a yawn, “I will get better with time.”
Summer lies there, intermittently trembling as another jolt of pleasure rides through her body, one hand bent up to press against Mordred’s chest. She’s unwilling to be out of contact with him yet. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “That was … ” She can’t find the words.
Summer shudders, fingernails curling into his skin. She buries her face in Mordred’s neck again, her brain disassembled, unable to keep a coherent thought in the face of the slowing motion. Her open mouth presses to his skin, keen muffled there as the climax overtakes her.
”Oh gods,” and “Mordred,” and “please,” jumble out of her mouth, right before she sees stars and all she can do is hold on to him as something takes her whole body and lights up all the nerves.
She can’t imagine how this could be any better, and yet somehow it keeps happening. The way he bites her is just the spark of pain she needs in contrast, and she moans, head falling back, before she nudges at him, locking her lips with his.
The shift in position is almost more than Summer can stand. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, face buried in the crook of his neck, and muffles her voice against his skin. One hand combs through his hair, and she kisses everything she can reach. Something is building, where once she burned, where he fills her; she doesn’t know what it is, but every motion brings it closer.
Summer cries out again — it might be his name, or a curse, or or just ‘yes, or something even less coherent. She’s hyperaware of everything about her body now, everywhere he’s touching, the way she shifts to take him in, his teeth in her skin. One leg wraps around his knees, opening her up more to him, and she rocks her hips.
There’s a brief struggle as they both try to undo his trousers and push them down. There’s a little edge of fear thrilling along Summer’s nerves now — the sort of fear that heightens excitement. Her breath comes, if possible, a little faster, when she can breathe under his mouth. Another whimper, while she bites at his lip, and her aching need pours into his mind.
Sparks haze in front of her vision, but if she was ever in control of this, she’s decidedly not now. She’s wholly at his mercy, unkind mercy, unable to do more than beg. The words are half-formed and only audible due to the stillness of the room. She pulls on his hips, down, uncaring that his hand within her is trapped between.
A cry spills from her lips, and her eyes fly wide. One hand climbs into his hair, fingers tugging at the curls. She bucks into his grip, helplessly.