[No, she says, and Nikolai pauses, heart sinking into his stomach, shame rising up. But then she rolls against him, taking his touch for her own, and — actions speaking louder than words — he resumes petting her. Please, she says, and he listens. Through the tether, stronger now than it has been for a long time, he can feel her ache as if it's his own. And it is. It is.]
Saints, I want you. [A plea breathed against her breast as he drinks of her.] I want...
[Again his fingers trace the flatness of her belly, the dribbling trails of spilled milk, and his voice cracks. The rest of the sentence is lost. Tears threaten at the corners of his eyes. Cupping her ass in two handfuls, he pulls her against him, replacing the pulse of his fingers with the grind of his cock. His breath trembles out of him, bends into a moan.
As he tugs off her underwear and pulls out his cock, as the soft slick give of her surrounds him, and they sink into each other as they have a hundred times before, that's when he feels the hot wet of tears roll down his cheeks. He wants to be strong for her, but maybe it's just as important to be weak with her.]
no subject
Saints, I want you. [A plea breathed against her breast as he drinks of her.] I want...
[Again his fingers trace the flatness of her belly, the dribbling trails of spilled milk, and his voice cracks. The rest of the sentence is lost. Tears threaten at the corners of his eyes. Cupping her ass in two handfuls, he pulls her against him, replacing the pulse of his fingers with the grind of his cock. His breath trembles out of him, bends into a moan.
As he tugs off her underwear and pulls out his cock, as the soft slick give of her surrounds him, and they sink into each other as they have a hundred times before, that's when he feels the hot wet of tears roll down his cheeks. He wants to be strong for her, but maybe it's just as important to be weak with her.]