Natasha hisses her displeasure as he pulls back his hand, the shudder of emptiness as her hips strain to follow him. He’s stronger than he seems, pinning the wrist of the hand that had been touching him above her head; it’s in her nature to fight, to provide a little more resistance than he might be accustomed to. Still, she can’t overpower him, still shivering in the afterglow.
Her heart jumps as she notices the way he pulls back, his eyes on her face, and she’s about to snarl a what at him when he bottoms out and all that comes out is a strangled gasp. She’s still sensitive as his hips grind against hers, a pleasure bordering on pain, and her hand flexes in his hair to draw him down until their foreheads bump, until her panted breath mingles with his —
Intimate. Too close, close enough that she can taste his groan when he thrusts, and it mingles with a desperate moan of her own. Following his urging, she twines one leg over his hip, heel nudging the back of his knee as though indicating that he ought to go again.
This close, she can note details she’s never thought about — the green of his eyes, the cut of his cheekbones, how his pupils are blown and focused entirely on her, drinking her in. She hasn’t been this close .. ever, really, and even when she’d been closer there’d been six solid inches of bullet and shatter proof glass between them.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting tired,” she tries to taunt, knowing it must fall flat with how her breath catches as he pulls back again. “Weren’t you a god or something?”
no subject
Her heart jumps as she notices the way he pulls back, his eyes on her face, and she’s about to snarl a what at him when he bottoms out and all that comes out is a strangled gasp. She’s still sensitive as his hips grind against hers, a pleasure bordering on pain, and her hand flexes in his hair to draw him down until their foreheads bump, until her panted breath mingles with his —
Intimate. Too close, close enough that she can taste his groan when he thrusts, and it mingles with a desperate moan of her own. Following his urging, she twines one leg over his hip, heel nudging the back of his knee as though indicating that he ought to go again.
This close, she can note details she’s never thought about — the green of his eyes, the cut of his cheekbones, how his pupils are blown and focused entirely on her, drinking her in. She hasn’t been this close .. ever, really, and even when she’d been closer there’d been six solid inches of bullet and shatter proof glass between them.
“Don’t tell me you’re getting tired,” she tries to taunt, knowing it must fall flat with how her breath catches as he pulls back again. “Weren’t you a god or something?”