(She has unlocked something here; she can tell by the delicious debut of a whole new sound. Seems like no matter how many times they do this, something always pops up, like a whole rollercoaster of self-discovery. You know, things that might just happen when they are sharing a bed with their problems. For her, it's individuality that she finds, which she tends to try and conceal all for herself, and snarl at him for looking when she happens to let him — whole ordeal, but hey. They both knew what they were getting into and just how complicated the other could be.
And suppose that's where they are at, because this has been completely different from what she is used to being on top. Spoiling him, yeah, a little bit, but not remotely intentional — she's just being honest, without being repelled by it about it for fucking once. It won't last forever or even hold out throughout the rest of their day, it' a given that she rebuilds her wall as soon as the plausible deniability of hormones can no longer serve as an excuse.
Sophie doesn't roll her eyes, doesn't make a snarky comment with his words. She smiles with her little crinkle, because it's an awkward line that would not have been had he stopped at the compliment, and well, she's not fucking some dude bro who would pull that off perfectly. She's fucking Quentin, and it's kinda part of the package, and as her brain starts to melt, look, she can find it pathetically endearing. Shut up, she already gives him enough shit on the daily for eighty percent of what he says, let her have this.
This is pretty perfect, though, and she doesn't even have many brain cells left to think about kissing him, she's so busy trying to match the rhythm he's drawing her into while she sees stars every time her hips meet his, noises unrestricted and, God, embarrassingly loud, her cheeks as rosy as they can get. He wants to look at her, she doesn't even register declining it; her surviving neurons are employed in slowing down his perception of time so that he can enjoy it to the fullest. You're welcome, it was very difficult to focus on it, because as soon as he climaxes, she's a goner too.
It was so intense that she's lightheaded, her hearing distant as she holds onto him for dear life as she tries to command some air into her lungs. She even had a quip stored to pull his leg with, but what quip, she doesn't even remember what about, her forehead resting against his before she presses a kiss to his cheek.
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And suppose that's where they are at, because this has been completely different from what she is used to being on top. Spoiling him, yeah, a little bit, but not remotely intentional — she's just being honest, without being repelled by it about it for fucking once. It won't last forever or even hold out throughout the rest of their day, it' a given that she rebuilds her wall as soon as the plausible deniability of hormones can no longer serve as an excuse.
Sophie doesn't roll her eyes, doesn't make a snarky comment with his words. She smiles with her little crinkle, because it's an awkward line that would not have been had he stopped at the compliment, and well, she's not fucking some dude bro who would pull that off perfectly. She's fucking Quentin, and it's kinda part of the package, and as her brain starts to melt, look, she can find it pathetically endearing. Shut up, she already gives him enough shit on the daily for eighty percent of what he says, let her have this.
This is pretty perfect, though, and she doesn't even have many brain cells left to think about kissing him, she's so busy trying to match the rhythm he's drawing her into while she sees stars every time her hips meet his, noises unrestricted and, God, embarrassingly loud, her cheeks as rosy as they can get. He wants to look at her, she doesn't even register declining it; her surviving neurons are employed in slowing down his perception of time so that he can enjoy it to the fullest. You're welcome, it was very difficult to focus on it, because as soon as he climaxes, she's a goner too.
It was so intense that she's lightheaded, her hearing distant as she holds onto him for dear life as she tries to command some air into her lungs. She even had a quip stored to pull his leg with, but what quip, she doesn't even remember what about, her forehead resting against his before she presses a kiss to his cheek.
Holy shit.)