[ This is the reassurance he offers you: his mouth covering yours in a far gentler, deeper kiss than he's given you since the both of you started, full not of how much he needs you, but how he intends to make you feel good. Maybe it'll be enough or even poetically apt, since it's coupled with how he slides one of his oil-slicked palms almost worshipfully over the length of your body, and up the side of your face before it gathers your wrists up yet again, crossing them over your head.
Interestingly enough, the spots where his hand touched your skin seemed to heat up, much like the glow offered by a fire. It may also make you hyper aware of how your skin feels on his, especially since the heat generated by the contact seems to be slipping beneath your skin and down into to your gut, your heart, your lungs, your brains.
He's moving his other hand now, taking you by the hilt, handling you with more long, thorough strokes. That place, as you know (or more, at this point, can feel), is covered in that oil too. ]
I love you. [ And then, a sigh over your lips after kissing you again: ] Just feel this through.
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Interestingly enough, the spots where his hand touched your skin seemed to heat up, much like the glow offered by a fire. It may also make you hyper aware of how your skin feels on his, especially since the heat generated by the contact seems to be slipping beneath your skin and down into to your gut, your heart, your lungs, your brains.
He's moving his other hand now, taking you by the hilt, handling you with more long, thorough strokes. That place, as you know (or more, at this point, can feel), is covered in that oil too. ]
I love you. [ And then, a sigh over your lips after kissing you again: ] Just feel this through.