[ It's the sounds you're making over/on/around him that cut at the last bits of his resolve. He might tell you one day that it's the sound of you that really gets him, even more than the sight of you, because whether its the hitch of your breath around his name as he pushes into you, or the way you whine when he's stretching you out -- your voice is an aphrodisiac.
He feels himself spill over and his fingers curl into tight fists in your hair as his body seems to cave inward: knees drawing up to press you closer, eyes shutting as his teeth worry at his bottom lip.
He can't find his voice for the first few, agonizing seconds of his release and you'll feel the tremors going through him as he rides the crest of the pleasure you've brought him.
He's quiet still when he finally falls back, chest heaving because no, there is not nearly enough oxygen in his head. ]
no subject
He feels himself spill over and his fingers curl into tight fists in your hair as his body seems to cave inward: knees drawing up to press you closer, eyes shutting as his teeth worry at his bottom lip.
He can't find his voice for the first few, agonizing seconds of his release and you'll feel the tremors going through him as he rides the crest of the pleasure you've brought him.
He's quiet still when he finally falls back, chest heaving because no, there is not nearly enough oxygen in his head. ]