"It's..." He grumbles, which is really just him trying to muffle a groan. Touching her is both better and worse; it brings it all up to the surface, where before it was just a constant churching in a sea that he was aware of but hadn't begun to directly flood.
"It doesn't burn and ache in the same way, yet." He wonders how long they were unconscious there before both came round more or less at the same time. He wonders if it matters. "It's present, and heavy. Like a smog. Less like a smog that is actively on fire at the same time."
He wonders if he'll be able to tell if/when he loses control, this next time, or if he'll justify it in a frenzy of need and want and the desire to win. His hands travel up her sides, around to her breasts, taking one in each hand and squeezing.
no subject
"It doesn't burn and ache in the same way, yet." He wonders how long they were unconscious there before both came round more or less at the same time. He wonders if it matters. "It's present, and heavy. Like a smog. Less like a smog that is actively on fire at the same time."
He wonders if he'll be able to tell if/when he loses control, this next time, or if he'll justify it in a frenzy of need and want and the desire to win. His hands travel up her sides, around to her breasts, taking one in each hand and squeezing.