[He'll realize in about 20 objective seconds his perception slowing is her doing, but his own brain picks up the cue from her prodding and automatically adjusts his subjective experience to match previously assigned settings. His brain processes everything 15 faster than average. With his subjective perception of time slowed to 15 times the normal rate, his mind doesn't race, and the sensory input is no longer overwhelming but being able to process every single thing he's feeling doesn't make them any less good. He can feel the muscles in his arms contracting as he grinds their hips desperately together through his climax, his pants hanging down at his ankles from the frankly absurd amount of moving he was trying to do in this position, his heart beating wildly like it's about to burst out of his chest. She's crying out and clutching him and god he wishes they'd taken shirts off before they did this because the fabric feels like sandpaper on his overly sensitive skin but then it doesn't matter because just like she promised she comes apart around him.
With his mind more focused, he can slip inside hers, watch her face contort at the same time as her brain is overwhelmed with pleasure and her body clenches tightly around him. He rides the wave of her orgasm to prolong his own until eventually, eventually his sense of time catches back up with the real world, and she's gently kissing his cheek as they both come down.
Holy shit is right. Quentin pants harshly, trying to catch his breath, and looks down at his hands in a daze, stiffly loosening his grip on her hips but keeping them there for now. His brain is all scrambled, and he's just gonna... take a minute and slump backwards, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling and try to make recalibrate the mess in his head.]
Some—[Damn, he can't breathe. Is he dying? Is this what it feels like to get fucked to death? Not the worst way he's kicked the bucket by far, so if so he'll take it.] Some quickie, huh? Jesus.
no subject
With his mind more focused, he can slip inside hers, watch her face contort at the same time as her brain is overwhelmed with pleasure and her body clenches tightly around him. He rides the wave of her orgasm to prolong his own until eventually, eventually his sense of time catches back up with the real world, and she's gently kissing his cheek as they both come down.
Holy shit is right. Quentin pants harshly, trying to catch his breath, and looks down at his hands in a daze, stiffly loosening his grip on her hips but keeping them there for now. His brain is all scrambled, and he's just gonna... take a minute and slump backwards, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling and try to make recalibrate the mess in his head.]
Some—[Damn, he can't breathe. Is he dying? Is this what it feels like to get fucked to death? Not the worst way he's kicked the bucket by far, so if so he'll take it.] Some quickie, huh? Jesus.
[Good news: his quips are still functional.]