She was beauty personified in the moments she lost complete control for him, fire and flesh made magic when she cursed and begged and pleaded for her release, spoke his name like a prayer that would save her from eternal damnation. In those moments, he owned her completely: her thoughts, her body, her will as well as her heart, and it was a long held fantasy of being able to one day take her to that place and hold her there. Deny her pleasure, leave her hovering until the whimpers and pleas became sobs and screams.
And it would never happen, because Neil simply couldn't fucking resist her in those moments: thighs spread, cunt slick, mind gone--all that strength and poise and grace given over to him simply because he loved her.
Drunk on her pleasure, the power of worlds in his hands on his knees before his queen...he didn't have the strength to hold her there, didn't have the restraint to remain unmoved by the whimpers of his name on her lips. He could only take her higher, give up his teasing and press his tongue deep inside of her, brush a thumb over her clit and fuck her with his mouth until those sounds turned desperate--then press his thumb a little harder, curl his tongue inside her, and push her over that precipice and into sweet oblivion.
If he ever expressed the fantasy to her, she might grant it to him. Grant him the permission to deny her, at least until she hit some not-predetermined point at which she couldn't take it and told him as much via segnale, or what were called safe words in the Land without Magic. She might even allow it with a segnale only for an emergency, because she would be curious to see how far he would push, how long he would make her wait, what it would feel like to be reduced to nothing but her need.
But he hadn't expressed the desire and this night wouldn't be the night for it anyhow. They might be sufficiently alone that the moans that dripped from her lips like the honey that dripped from her cunt belonged to Neil alone, but the threat of being found did still exist and fed the fire of pleasure with taboo, and she would not, could not, ever, allow anyone but Neil to see her completely given over to her need and mindless with sexual agony.
Still she had already slipped over from moans to sobbing breaths, her breasts shimmying and swaying against the fabric of her dress, taunting her with nowhere near enough contact to push her over. Everything, all of her, was Neil's, and if she thought she might die of waiting if he didn't let her come soon. Which was right about the moment that his tongue pushed so deep that his sideways turned mouth kissed her labia like her mouth, and his thumb drove her on.
Her grip on the bookshelf slipped, and she grasped frantically for another. Caught a book by the spine and tossed it accidentally to the floor. The noise went almost unheard amongst the wet sounds of her pleasure and her sobbing pleas, and yet another fell before she found her grip again. By then, her orgasm was on her, and she screamed for him like a hunting hawk once before she bit the inside of her cheek to stifle herself as she shuddered and shook and sought nothing but the strength of his arms to hold her up.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2018-10-07 06:13 am (UTC)And it would never happen, because Neil simply couldn't fucking resist her in those moments: thighs spread, cunt slick, mind gone--all that strength and poise and grace given over to him simply because he loved her.
Drunk on her pleasure, the power of worlds in his hands on his knees before his queen...he didn't have the strength to hold her there, didn't have the restraint to remain unmoved by the whimpers of his name on her lips. He could only take her higher, give up his teasing and press his tongue deep inside of her, brush a thumb over her clit and fuck her with his mouth until those sounds turned desperate--then press his thumb a little harder, curl his tongue inside her, and push her over that precipice and into sweet oblivion.
no subject
Date: 2018-10-10 03:25 am (UTC)But he hadn't expressed the desire and this night wouldn't be the night for it anyhow. They might be sufficiently alone that the moans that dripped from her lips like the honey that dripped from her cunt belonged to Neil alone, but the threat of being found did still exist and fed the fire of pleasure with taboo, and she would not, could not, ever, allow anyone but Neil to see her completely given over to her need and mindless with sexual agony.
Still she had already slipped over from moans to sobbing breaths, her breasts shimmying and swaying against the fabric of her dress, taunting her with nowhere near enough contact to push her over. Everything, all of her, was Neil's, and if she thought she might die of waiting if he didn't let her come soon. Which was right about the moment that his tongue pushed so deep that his sideways turned mouth kissed her labia like her mouth, and his thumb drove her on.
Her grip on the bookshelf slipped, and she grasped frantically for another. Caught a book by the spine and tossed it accidentally to the floor. The noise went almost unheard amongst the wet sounds of her pleasure and her sobbing pleas, and yet another fell before she found her grip again. By then, her orgasm was on her, and she screamed for him like a hunting hawk once before she bit the inside of her cheek to stifle herself as she shuddered and shook and sought nothing but the strength of his arms to hold her up.