[ kiyomi's reaction only fuels whatever desires have already been burning within him. much like fanning an open flame, each movement she makes, or the way in which only their breaths are the only thing that can be heard between him rouses him and continues to push him past the edge. it isn't that rafayel had ever been particularly patient. it's just the bitter years of waiting have waned any semblance of self-discipline he may have otherwise had. or perhaps, it's just his want that has always been this great.
her body is much like a canvas in which his hands travel and pay reverence to. displaying each bit of devotion to his craft, his thumb rubs up against the lace of her panties, feeling the wetness between her legs. when he hears her words, he doesn't think twice before he pulls at the lace, which by all accounts is more delicate a material than he expects. he hopes he hasn't ruined them, and there's a small sound from the back of his throat when he does. is it his own way of showing his remorse, or is it actually that he's letting her know that there could be more that he could be sorry for? ] Oops.
[ but, the way his eyes lingers on her every curve and seems to fall between her thighs, in which he settles himself against...
is he really that sorry? still, he likes the way she comes down on his fingers. his index and middle flinger slip in with relative ease, he curves them upwards, rubbing against her inner walls, feeling the way she naturally clenches against them. just the pure imagination of it all is enough to drive him crazy. ]
But, what do you want? Are my fingers enough? [ his voice is low when he speaks. measured between his words. not because he's being particularly careful with them, but because it takes all his concentration just to get them out. it's hard when she's so alluring. ] Do you want them deeper?
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her body is much like a canvas in which his hands travel and pay reverence to. displaying each bit of devotion to his craft, his thumb rubs up against the lace of her panties, feeling the wetness between her legs. when he hears her words, he doesn't think twice before he pulls at the lace, which by all accounts is more delicate a material than he expects. he hopes he hasn't ruined them, and there's a small sound from the back of his throat when he does. is it his own way of showing his remorse, or is it actually that he's letting her know that there could be more that he could be sorry for? ] Oops.
[ but, the way his eyes lingers on her every curve and seems to fall between her thighs, in which he settles himself against...
is he really that sorry? still, he likes the way she comes down on his fingers. his index and middle flinger slip in with relative ease, he curves them upwards, rubbing against her inner walls, feeling the way she naturally clenches against them. just the pure imagination of it all is enough to drive him crazy. ]
But, what do you want? Are my fingers enough? [ his voice is low when he speaks. measured between his words. not because he's being particularly careful with them, but because it takes all his concentration just to get them out. it's hard when she's so alluring. ] Do you want them deeper?