[ Squirm is precisely what he does, and it's matched with a hitched breath that bleeds out into a tiny noise of discomfort. It's the sort of discomfort, though, that comes with being way too turned on for one's good.
By the time you're telling him that, he's slumping against you, trembling just a little over your body, forehead pressed against your forehead (if he could set it against the crook of your shoulder, he would), breath a little short and getting all the more ragged with each passing second.
He wants you so badly right now. All of this is just emphasizing how, because of your own respective preoccupations and the crowd, you had felt so distant and out of reach to him the entire night, even if you had been right there. Sometimes, having to keep up appearances can be so grating. ]
I really hope that involves fucking me on this couch.
[ Or on the floor. Or the bed. Or against the wall. Or... ]
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By the time you're telling him that, he's slumping against you, trembling just a little over your body, forehead pressed against your forehead (if he could set it against the crook of your shoulder, he would), breath a little short and getting all the more ragged with each passing second.
He wants you so badly right now. All of this is just emphasizing how, because of your own respective preoccupations and the crowd, you had felt so distant and out of reach to him the entire night, even if you had been right there. Sometimes, having to keep up appearances can be so grating. ]
I really hope that involves fucking me on this couch.
[ Or on the floor. Or the bed. Or against the wall. Or... ]