My schedule is... [ A groan. If he thought he had a difficult time riding out her orgasm at the beginning, her chasing the edges of it and fucking him through it — as that is definitely what is happening here — will definitely be his undoing. ]Blessedly open.
[ He kisses her then, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth with a grin and another groan. The illusionary flowers burst into blossom, wither, die, are reborn again in little flares of green and gold magic as his hips snap upward without any sense of rhythm or pattern, merely rising to meet her as swiftly as possible with every thrust. When his control finally snaps it's very sudden; his hands at her waist tighten and he's left gasping and cursing against her mouth as each small flower bursts into a shower of sparks around them. ]
[ The kiss pulls a little sound out of her as he starts to lose rhythm, the pulse of their intertwined magic leaving sparks behind her eyes-- ones she quickly realizes is also still filling the room as she opens them again. It's beautiful, the flowers curling through their lifecycles, and she's half distracted by the actual artistry of the illusion when his hands tighten around her waist. And then all she can pay attention to is the way he comes apart under her, the way his mouth moves against hers as he whimpers out those curses. The flex of his muscles in his arms and shoulders and back as she holds him close again, swallowing his words with desperate kisses; she can feel his pleasure in echoes through their magic, and she holds him tight as the flowers burst into flecks of light around them. ]
Loki... [ Her arms slowly loosen after a moment, her skin prickling with goosepimples from the cold air and the delicious floating buzz of their release-- backed by that still humming connection. ] Holy...shit.
[ He brushes some of her hair back from her forehead with a shaky hand, taking large, deep breaths to try and come down from the intensity of it all. He loves her; it doesn't exist as a question or a possibility to him, it just. Is. It burns in him like a fire, sometimes raging, sometimes as quiet as a candle's flame, but nevertheless there. ]
Pretty good, yeah? [ He laughs, and kisses her again. Softly. Like he has all the time in the world. ]
[ It's breathless as she settles her arms a bit more over his shoulders, her entire front pressing up lazily against his as she tries to settle more into the water with him, craving the warmth of both his skin and the bath. ]
I think I'd need a few more rounds to really be sure.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ He kisses her then, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth with a grin and another groan. The illusionary flowers burst into blossom, wither, die, are reborn again in little flares of green and gold magic as his hips snap upward without any sense of rhythm or pattern, merely rising to meet her as swiftly as possible with every thrust. When his control finally snaps it's very sudden; his hands at her waist tighten and he's left gasping and cursing against her mouth as each small flower bursts into a shower of sparks around them. ]
no subject
[ The kiss pulls a little sound out of her as he starts to lose rhythm, the pulse of their intertwined magic leaving sparks behind her eyes-- ones she quickly realizes is also still filling the room as she opens them again. It's beautiful, the flowers curling through their lifecycles, and she's half distracted by the actual artistry of the illusion when his hands tighten around her waist. And then all she can pay attention to is the way he comes apart under her, the way his mouth moves against hers as he whimpers out those curses. The flex of his muscles in his arms and shoulders and back as she holds him close again, swallowing his words with desperate kisses; she can feel his pleasure in echoes through their magic, and she holds him tight as the flowers burst into flecks of light around them. ]
Loki... [ Her arms slowly loosen after a moment, her skin prickling with goosepimples from the cold air and the delicious floating buzz of their release-- backed by that still humming connection. ] Holy...shit.
no subject
[ He brushes some of her hair back from her forehead with a shaky hand, taking large, deep breaths to try and come down from the intensity of it all. He loves her; it doesn't exist as a question or a possibility to him, it just. Is. It burns in him like a fire, sometimes raging, sometimes as quiet as a candle's flame, but nevertheless there. ]
Pretty good, yeah? [ He laughs, and kisses her again. Softly. Like he has all the time in the world. ]
no subject
[ It's breathless as she settles her arms a bit more over his shoulders, her entire front pressing up lazily against his as she tries to settle more into the water with him, craving the warmth of both his skin and the bath. ]
I think I'd need a few more rounds to really be sure.