[That would probably sound more obnoxious if he wasn't so breathless. He's not in her head as much as before, because feeling both sides of this would almost definitely make him lose it, but he can't help peeking a bit every so often. The idea that they're meant to be and fit together like puzzle pieces makes it over to him, and honestly? When he's all the way in, and their bodies are as close together as they can get, it's really hard to argue. Sure, that's probably just the cocktail of oxytocin, dopamine, and vasopressin his brain is cranking out like it's going out of style, but still. No matter the reason, the fact is right now he can't imagine another living creature in any universe fitting him as perfectly as she does, and he has to pause, resting his head on her shoulder to catch his breath for a moment.]
You're not so bad yourself.
[The cheeky smile on his face as he lifts his head is plenty of evidence that "not so bad" is an understatement, even if his entire body language didn't scream how turned on he is. And with that, he peeks into her head to make sure she's ready and bucks his hips against hers with a loud groan. Then again. He switches to telepathic communication because talking while panting is getting more difficult, punctuating his sentences with hard, if shallow, thrusts.]
no subject
[That would probably sound more obnoxious if he wasn't so breathless. He's not in her head as much as before, because feeling both sides of this would almost definitely make him lose it, but he can't help peeking a bit every so often. The idea that they're meant to be and fit together like puzzle pieces makes it over to him, and honestly? When he's all the way in, and their bodies are as close together as they can get, it's really hard to argue. Sure, that's probably just the cocktail of oxytocin, dopamine, and vasopressin his brain is cranking out like it's going out of style, but still. No matter the reason, the fact is right now he can't imagine another living creature in any universe fitting him as perfectly as she does, and he has to pause, resting his head on her shoulder to catch his breath for a moment.]
You're not so bad yourself.
[The cheeky smile on his face as he lifts his head is plenty of evidence that "not so bad" is an understatement, even if his entire body language didn't scream how turned on he is. And with that, he peeks into her head to make sure she's ready and bucks his hips against hers with a loud groan. Then again. He switches to telepathic communication because talking while panting is getting more difficult, punctuating his sentences with hard, if shallow, thrusts.]
"God, you're perfect. So. Fucking. Perfect."