[ She closes her eyes and he wonders, immediately, if he's done something wrong. Not in the sense of requiring correction, exactly, but in... some other, less clearly delineated manner. When she softens, speaks, he releases a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding and shakes his head, smile turning more subtle, something just for her. ]
No, it doesn't disappoint me.
[ When she opens her eyes his smile widens again. One of his hands comes up to brush the backs of his fingers, his fingertips, along her cheekbone. ]
I... [ He sighs, shakes his head a little. ] You surprise me at every turn, your strength, the breadth of your care. Your beauty steals the air from my lungs and I wonder how I could be fortunate enough to be a recipient of any of it, but disappointment? No. Not that.
I want, more than most things, to be yours. I know that doesn't have to come in the one type of arrangement. [ Another shake of his head. ] It is an easy thing for me to fall into.
[ A similar breath leaves her when he says no, brushes fingers across her face. And she listens. Smiles softly to be beautiful, and caring, and strong. Lets it tremble a little beneath eyes that shine wetly when he says he wants to be hers.
She sniffs a little, touches his face in mirror. Recovers as if her hand on him soothed her. ]
It is... a simple tumble for me, as well. I cannot but respond to it, and for the parts that are pain— [ her smile turns a little wry— ] I fear there is little escape from my wildness unless I make concerted effort.
[ One of her hands moves slowly to tangle itself in his hair; not to pull, or to grasp, but to hold the way a child holds something that makes them safe.
Quietly, then: ]
But I would like to be yours too. To know that even with all the power in the world to leave that you would choose to stay.
[ He is becoming very fond of the different ways she touches his hair. The ways in which she smiles and touches his face. It feels like a lot to have experienced, since the moment she woke him in the Gallows, to still be here in front of her, naked and wanting and unafraid.
That last bit sure is something. ]
Aren't we quite the pair? [ He turns his head to kiss the inside of her arm nearest his face. ] We can be wild, I think, with one another.
[ That feels safe, oddly enough.
He doesn't have all the power in the world to leave, and he knows that. He feels as if he barely has half of the power he'd had before arriving in Thedas.
[ She wants to believe him. She wants so much to believe him.
But the thing that was unbreakable in Alexandrie had broken, and testing what it would feel like to believe him hurts as if the very moment he was hers he was lost.
If the first is real, the second; there is no space between them for her to gather herself, steady herself, there is only immediately the lance of gone and suddenly she is wrapped around Loki as tightly as she can manage with her face buried in his neck, shuddering with the effort it takes to keep herself from sobbing. ]
[ Her embrace is unexpected in its intensity and yet Loki only pauses for a breath, arms coming up to hold her as she presses her face to his neck. He doesn't know what to say, what would make this alright, and so he simply wraps himself around her, as if he could guard her from the outside world with his limbs alone.
'It's okay' is too much of a lie, even for him, right now. Will it be okay? He has no idea. Her husband could turn up. Many things are possible; fewer are probable and he can't do the math here, yet. Is he going to leave? Not by choice, but how much choice does he have? He has no idea how he got here, became human, or what happens to those like him that leave without warning. ]
Don't forget to breathe, [ is what he says, finally, after a moment of feeling as though he were holding a live wire that didn't shock him through only her focused effort. ]
The first one is a labored ragged gasp— as precarious seeming as the way the rest of her shakes— and only something she can do because of the way Loki wraps around her; the way he leaves no part of her un-held.
The second is a little easier, the third easier than that, and the violence of her clinging ebbs alongside as Alexandrie manages to soothe herself back to what is real. His skin, the rumple of the sheets where her feet and ankles touch them, the way he smells.
She wonders vaguely if this is something she will always do, but mostly she holds on to him and tries to feel it in her body like it is only the contentment of being close, like it is something other than goodbye. ]
[ He rubs her back in small circles with his fingers spread out across her skin, feeling her make attempts at breathing. He kisses her forehead, the top of her head, the shell of her ear, before pressing his lips to her shoulder and makes no moves to pull away or unwind himself from around her.
Loki breathes with her. Well. He tries to anyway. Deeply in, then out through his nose. ]
I'm still right here, [ he tells Alexandrie, because it seems like something to say. Something to remind her of. ] I'm not opting to go anywhere. [ A soft chuckle. ] When I first met him, Benedict asked me if there was one of you where I was from. He sounded sad when I told him there wasn't.
[ The kisses move, and it helps. Small reminders that she can't get used to, little ropes tossed out for her to catch on to in the water. Then he speaks and—
For a long time there was not one of you where I was from, and I was sad.
It's a flash of a thought, one Alexandrie tries to let pass through her. No more. A soft ask of herself. Not no more forever, no more today. I want to be in the world where he is here. The time that is happening now.
She rests her forehead against his neck and speaks to the hollow of his throat. ]
Perhaps there was, and it is only that you had not met her yet.
But that is for the you who remains in your world to discover. In this world you are here and I am here and neither of us need be sad.
[ When she raises her head to look at him her eyes still have a liquid shine to them, but that is all. She closes them as she leans in to rub her nose against his, thumbs stroking along his cheekbones. Sighs the remainder of her tension softly out, close enough that it will tickle against his lips. ]
[ He won't argue with her about it, certainly. The part of him that remains in the world he came from is gone, erased from time. That Loki may never meet Alexandrie. That Loki could barely help Sylvie with something as simple, as complex, as bringing down the TVA.
She brushes against his nose, sighs against his lips, and he thinks here we are. Strange and damaged creatures, hurting themselves on their jagged edges and coming back from the brink, bleeding.
One hand moves from her back to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair a little. ]
[ That perhaps is short enough, non-committal enough that she knows there is more; that there are things he left behind him that she doesn’t know yet that she’d brushed against— unfinished things, or things that hurt, or things he isn’t sure of yet. Things he may never be sure of.
She is thinking of apologizing when his hand shifts and he kisses her. Words taken, she tries to put it into her body; tries to make her kiss a soft one, a slow one, one of her hands stroking back into his hair.
Murmured, after: ]
Hello.
[ A breath, held for a moment, then— ]
I still know so little of what you have left behind in your world. [ A little kiss; the brief punctuation of presence. ] I am sorry if my words were clumsy or unkind.
[ It's his turn to sigh, but he's smiling as he does it. Her soft kiss helps, along with her hands in his hair — a sensation he's coming to associate with her and her alone — yet her words help even more. ]
There's a lot to tell you. [ He knows he's been... sparse, or something like it, with information thus far. With the information of relatively recent importance to his life, anyway. Information about Mobius, about the TVA, about Sylvie. About his feelings. About what they mean to him. ] If your words have been clumsy, that is my fault for not having told you more already.
[ He brushes his nose against hers. ]
But I don't think you've been clumsy. No moreso than I.
[ She smiles, nudges his nose with her own, speaks gently: ]
Anything you wish to tell me I wish to hear.
[ A moment of hesitation, and then she pulls back enough that she can look into his eyes. Allows herself a moment just to look at them and think of the way the sea is always shifting too, its sometime green and sometime blue.
She is not sure how often he has been told, but she will tell him. ]
You are a good man, Loki.
[ Untroubled now by spike of grief, imbalance, fumbling words, or fear she feels light enough to know that when they spark and set aflame again she will burn clean for him. And so she leans in to kiss him again on a slow inhale, closing her eyes to better feel him.
Here for now, hers for now, and that is all there is or needs to be. ]
[ Some day, perhaps, someone will tell him that he's a good man, capable and deserving of care, and Loki won't immediately feel as though he's managed to accidentally craft the greatest lie he's ever told without intention.
That day is not today. But before his brain can think of how to deny what she's telling him, she's kissing him again and Loki takes in a shaky breath through his nose as he kisses her back.
Loki deepens the kiss with the hand not tangled in her hair seeking her fingers to weave them together. He has to believe her, even in this; he has no other acceptable choices than that. ]
[ She can’t help it; just the brief stutter in Loki’s breath, the way he seeks her hand to lace their fingers to be closer, and she winds her fingers around his and yearns against him with a quiet needy sound escaping through her nose.
It is like this, has been like this. She is so raw to him that he could look at her across a room and leave her gasping; in this close press she nearly drowns— will drown if she lets herself and oh, how she wants to. Wants so much, because she believes when she is water he can hold her. Believes so deeply that she’d say she knows.
For now she shifts her hips tighter to him, spreads the fingers that are in his hair so she has more in her grasp when she curls her fingers into it and traces her tongue across his bottom lip. ]
[ Alexandrie's sound stirs him sharply into this exact moment, far from the protesting noises his mind would like to make about her proclamation, still. Loki's hand not intertwined with hers leaves her hair and settles, instead, at the small of her back; his legs draw in again, ankles crossing behind her, essentially cradling her in his lap.
His wanting of her hasn't abated at any point during their kissing, their touching, their conversations. Like a tide, it has ebbed and flowed, but her gasping has him shuddering all over again, his cock trapped between their bodies. She licks his bottom lip and he groans, rolling his hips upward into hers, holding her as close as is possible right now as the friction has him groaning. ]
I want you, [ he breathes against her lips. Just in case she thought that might have changed, or heaven forbid, forgot in the last several moments. ]
[ It makes her need to bite to steady herself— hearing him groan for her, roll hips up to meet hers, his hands on her, the breath of his words, the words themselves— and so she does. Presses her cheek to his, pulls her teeth inelegantly down it until they find a place to fix at his jawline— not hard, just enough to anchor herself to him as she pants softly there against his skin, whines at the absence she doesn’t know how to fix. Moving away from the way the roll of his hips drags the length of him against her for even a moment seems impossible. That moment of movement away is the only way she gets to feel him inside her.
The profound injustice of this and her overpowering want of him combine in a squeeze of her teeth, a muffled whine before she opens her mouth to let him go so she can manage an urgent whisper of ]
[ That bite and the request along with it elicits a chuckle from him, eyes going dark again with wanting. Loki remembers well how they ended up on the floor in the first place and so it's towards the center of the bed he shifts them, pressing into Alexandrie's space, hand moving from her back to run it along the back of her thigh as he maneuvers them until they're laying down, with her beneath him.
He drags his hips against hers slowly, unable to avoid teasing even though he aches to be inside of her already. Encourages her legs to wrap around his waist, as he reaches between them and presses the head of his cock against the dampness between her legs, rubbing up towards her clit then back down again but not entering her, not yet. ]
Like this?
[ As much as he needs to feel her body around him, he wants to hear her say please once more or learn what other demand or entreat she might make before he does. ]
[ Head tilts back into the pillow, eyes flutter closed as her eyebrows raise, breath hissing through her teeth as she draws it in.
Alexandrie needs little encouragement to wrap her legs at his waist. In fact she goes farther, sliding her knees along his sides until they’re just below his shoulder blades, resting her heels against his lower back— a positioning that will help to compensate for his height when he is finished teasing them both— a hazard of bedding the God of Mischief— and one which spreads her farther, unavoidably hot and slick to dripping against his rub. ]
You could make me gasp with only this. Make me writhe beneath you until the only words I know are those for pleading and your name.
[ She waits until Loki’s rhythm takes him upward and drops her hips a little so he will slide across her clit; lets herself ride the spark of it into a low shuddering moan to show him, her hand gripping his.
With words more breath than voice: ]
So yes— like this.
[ She looks up at him, eyes as dark as his with desire, voice a deep and throaty thing. ]
It's tempting, [ he admits, voice rough as he strokes himself down and then upward against her once more, ] but no. This is not all I want.
[ That doesn't mean, apparently, that he is going to change what he is doing right away. No, he wants her to ache with wanting as much as he does, so that when he gives in and her body takes his inside she will feel as overwhelmed and overstimulated as possible. He pulls the hand holding hers up above her head as he continues, rolling his hips with every pass along that cluster of nerves. He kisses her lips, her nose, her chin, her throat, biting her there when the desire to just enter her grows too great for him to mitigate otherwise. ]
[ She'd stretched her head up and to the side when he kissed her throat to offer him more— which means when Loki sinks teeth into her she's in no position to bite back, has no recourse for the tempering of her want of him but oaths and her free hand flying to grip and curve nails into his upper arm like a snake strike. Her heels dig into his back as she pulls herself tighter against his hips with her legs, letting out a hoarse little cry each time he rolls them against her. ]
[ He'd had every intention, a moment prior, of stretching this out for as long as he could, to bring her shuddering and to the brink, but something about her curse, her sounds, means that he reaches the end of his own patience faster than he'd anticipated.
Now, he needs to be inside of her now, and thus he licks at the side of her neck where he's bitten her as he brushes his thumb along the wet and hard nub of skin and nerve endings he's been teasing, wrapping the rest of his fingers around himself so that he is lined up and ready to enter her. More kisses, across her shoulder and up towards her ear; he licks the shell of it, nose buried in her hair, as he snaps his hips forward in a desperate wanting to be entirely within her in as direct a movement as possible. ]
[ Alexandrie draws a sharp shatter of a breath as the emptiness that ached in her is filled in an instant, back arching as her mind tries desperately to catch up to and understand everything her body feels and fails— will fail again with every move he makes if he continues, leaving her a writhing feral thing that cannot but respond with unfettered passion.
She had been half right, when she spoke of what language would remain to her. She cannot remember please; all she has as her fingers scrabble for a hold on his shoulder and she turns her head towards his to kiss whatever of it she can reach is a helpless gasping ]
[ He rotates his hips in a languid, slow circle before pulling out just as slowly only to snap his hips forward so that he's back inside of her again. His face turns toward hers to share fervent and wild kisses, nipping at her lips while the thumb on her clit shifts, pinches with his forefinger.
The goal is to drive her mad or something like it, to be overstimulating and relentless — at least for now. ]
Alexandrie[ comes out as more groan than proper word as he kisses her. Pull, pinch, thrust and again and again. ]
[ When he withdraws from her it's slow enough that by the end she writhes with longing for him, her thoughts running to make a home in his kisses where she can still have him. And when her mind is settled there in lips and tongue and nips of teeth the shock of pleasure in his pinch makes her gasp sharp and pulls thought swiftly down, although not quite swift enough to prepare herself before his hips snap tight and flush to hers and she is full of him and letting increasingly hoarse cries out against his mouth in the short moment of glory she is allowed to have before he pulls himself from her and starts again.
Her kisses in the time she seeks after him are becoming messy and desperate, her legs tremble against his back, slowly start to slide a little as their muscles stop obeying her commands and she can only weakly try to meet his thrusts— but try she does, helpless to do anything but strain against him seeking more. ]
[ This time, when Loki's hips snap forward to meet hers he stays there inside of her instead of pulling out slowly, hand moving from between them to help her legs remain high on his back. He smiles, and kisses her, across her nose and cheeks and to her lips again, even as he remains inside her still. ]
Will you fall apart for me, min hvite sommerfugl? [ He rotates his hips in a tight, small circle against her but still doesn't pull back. Now his hand comes up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing against her cheekbone. ] I would like to see it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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No, it doesn't disappoint me.
[ When she opens her eyes his smile widens again. One of his hands comes up to brush the backs of his fingers, his fingertips, along her cheekbone. ]
I... [ He sighs, shakes his head a little. ] You surprise me at every turn, your strength, the breadth of your care. Your beauty steals the air from my lungs and I wonder how I could be fortunate enough to be a recipient of any of it, but disappointment? No. Not that.
I want, more than most things, to be yours. I know that doesn't have to come in the one type of arrangement. [ Another shake of his head. ] It is an easy thing for me to fall into.
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She sniffs a little, touches his face in mirror. Recovers as if her hand on him soothed her. ]
It is... a simple tumble for me, as well. I cannot but respond to it, and for the parts that are pain— [ her smile turns a little wry— ] I fear there is little escape from my wildness unless I make concerted effort.
[ One of her hands moves slowly to tangle itself in his hair; not to pull, or to grasp, but to hold the way a child holds something that makes them safe.
Quietly, then: ]
But I would like to be yours too. To know that even with all the power in the world to leave that you would choose to stay.
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That last bit sure is something. ]
Aren't we quite the pair? [ He turns his head to kiss the inside of her arm nearest his face. ] We can be wild, I think, with one another.
[ That feels safe, oddly enough.
He doesn't have all the power in the world to leave, and he knows that. He feels as if he barely has half of the power he'd had before arriving in Thedas.
But still. ]
I'd stay.
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But the thing that was unbreakable in Alexandrie had broken, and testing what it would feel like to believe him hurts as if the very moment he was hers he was lost.
If the first is real, the second; there is no space between them for her to gather herself, steady herself, there is only immediately the lance of gone and suddenly she is wrapped around Loki as tightly as she can manage with her face buried in his neck, shuddering with the effort it takes to keep herself from sobbing. ]
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'It's okay' is too much of a lie, even for him, right now. Will it be okay? He has no idea. Her husband could turn up. Many things are possible; fewer are probable and he can't do the math here, yet. Is he going to leave? Not by choice, but how much choice does he have? He has no idea how he got here, became human, or what happens to those like him that leave without warning. ]
Don't forget to breathe, [ is what he says, finally, after a moment of feeling as though he were holding a live wire that didn't shock him through only her focused effort. ]
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The first one is a labored ragged gasp— as precarious seeming as the way the rest of her shakes— and only something she can do because of the way Loki wraps around her; the way he leaves no part of her un-held.
The second is a little easier, the third easier than that, and the violence of her clinging ebbs alongside as Alexandrie manages to soothe herself back to what is real. His skin, the rumple of the sheets where her feet and ankles touch them, the way he smells.
She wonders vaguely if this is something she will always do, but mostly she holds on to him and tries to feel it in her body like it is only the contentment of being close, like it is something other than goodbye. ]
usericon keywords just for you
Loki breathes with her. Well. He tries to anyway. Deeply in, then out through his nose. ]
I'm still right here, [ he tells Alexandrie, because it seems like something to say. Something to remind her of. ] I'm not opting to go anywhere. [ A soft chuckle. ] When I first met him, Benedict asked me if there was one of you where I was from. He sounded sad when I told him there wasn't.
bless
For a long time there was not one of you where I was from, and I was sad.
It's a flash of a thought, one Alexandrie tries to let pass through her. No more. A soft ask of herself. Not no more forever, no more today. I want to be in the world where he is here. The time that is happening now.
She rests her forehead against his neck and speaks to the hollow of his throat. ]
Perhaps there was, and it is only that you had not met her yet.
But that is for the you who remains in your world to discover. In this world you are here and I am here and neither of us need be sad.
[ When she raises her head to look at him her eyes still have a liquid shine to them, but that is all. She closes them as she leans in to rub her nose against his, thumbs stroking along his cheekbones. Sighs the remainder of her tension softly out, close enough that it will tickle against his lips. ]
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[ He won't argue with her about it, certainly. The part of him that remains in the world he came from is gone, erased from time. That Loki may never meet Alexandrie. That Loki could barely help Sylvie with something as simple, as complex, as bringing down the TVA.
She brushes against his nose, sighs against his lips, and he thinks here we are. Strange and damaged creatures, hurting themselves on their jagged edges and coming back from the brink, bleeding.
One hand moves from her back to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair a little. ]
Hello, again.
[ A kiss for her, then. ]
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She is thinking of apologizing when his hand shifts and he kisses her. Words taken, she tries to put it into her body; tries to make her kiss a soft one, a slow one, one of her hands stroking back into his hair.
Murmured, after: ]
Hello.
[ A breath, held for a moment, then— ]
I still know so little of what you have left behind in your world. [ A little kiss; the brief punctuation of presence. ] I am sorry if my words were clumsy or unkind.
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There's a lot to tell you. [ He knows he's been... sparse, or something like it, with information thus far. With the information of relatively recent importance to his life, anyway. Information about Mobius, about the TVA, about Sylvie. About his feelings. About what they mean to him. ] If your words have been clumsy, that is my fault for not having told you more already.
[ He brushes his nose against hers. ]
But I don't think you've been clumsy. No moreso than I.
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[ She smiles, nudges his nose with her own, speaks gently: ]
Anything you wish to tell me I wish to hear.
[ A moment of hesitation, and then she pulls back enough that she can look into his eyes. Allows herself a moment just to look at them and think of the way the sea is always shifting too, its sometime green and sometime blue.
She is not sure how often he has been told, but she will tell him. ]
You are a good man, Loki.
[ Untroubled now by spike of grief, imbalance, fumbling words, or fear she feels light enough to know that when they spark and set aflame again she will burn clean for him. And so she leans in to kiss him again on a slow inhale, closing her eyes to better feel him.
Here for now, hers for now, and that is all there is or needs to be. ]
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That day is not today. But before his brain can think of how to deny what she's telling him, she's kissing him again and Loki takes in a shaky breath through his nose as he kisses her back.
Loki deepens the kiss with the hand not tangled in her hair seeking her fingers to weave them together. He has to believe her, even in this; he has no other acceptable choices than that. ]
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It is like this, has been like this. She is so raw to him that he could look at her across a room and leave her gasping; in this close press she nearly drowns— will drown if she lets herself and oh, how she wants to. Wants so much, because she believes when she is water he can hold her. Believes so deeply that she’d say she knows.
For now she shifts her hips tighter to him, spreads the fingers that are in his hair so she has more in her grasp when she curls her fingers into it and traces her tongue across his bottom lip. ]
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His wanting of her hasn't abated at any point during their kissing, their touching, their conversations. Like a tide, it has ebbed and flowed, but her gasping has him shuddering all over again, his cock trapped between their bodies. She licks his bottom lip and he groans, rolling his hips upward into hers, holding her as close as is possible right now as the friction has him groaning. ]
I want you, [ he breathes against her lips. Just in case she thought that might have changed, or heaven forbid, forgot in the last several moments. ]
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The profound injustice of this and her overpowering want of him combine in a squeeze of her teeth, a muffled whine before she opens her mouth to let him go so she can manage an urgent whisper of ]
Yes, I—
please.
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He drags his hips against hers slowly, unable to avoid teasing even though he aches to be inside of her already. Encourages her legs to wrap around his waist, as he reaches between them and presses the head of his cock against the dampness between her legs, rubbing up towards her clit then back down again but not entering her, not yet. ]
Like this?
[ As much as he needs to feel her body around him, he wants to hear her say please once more or learn what other demand or entreat she might make before he does. ]
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Alexandrie needs little encouragement to wrap her legs at his waist. In fact she goes farther, sliding her knees along his sides until they’re just below his shoulder blades, resting her heels against his lower back— a positioning that will help to compensate for his height when he is finished teasing them both— a hazard of bedding the God of Mischief— and one which spreads her farther, unavoidably hot and slick to dripping against his rub. ]
You could make me gasp with only this. Make me writhe beneath you until the only words I know are those for pleading and your name.
[ She waits until Loki’s rhythm takes him upward and drops her hips a little so he will slide across her clit; lets herself ride the spark of it into a low shuddering moan to show him, her hand gripping his.
With words more breath than voice: ]
So yes— like this.
[ She looks up at him, eyes as dark as his with desire, voice a deep and throaty thing. ]
If that is all you want.
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[ That doesn't mean, apparently, that he is going to change what he is doing right away. No, he wants her to ache with wanting as much as he does, so that when he gives in and her body takes his inside she will feel as overwhelmed and overstimulated as possible. He pulls the hand holding hers up above her head as he continues, rolling his hips with every pass along that cluster of nerves. He kisses her lips, her nose, her chin, her throat, biting her there when the desire to just enter her grows too great for him to mitigate otherwise. ]
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[ She'd stretched her head up and to the side when he kissed her throat to offer him more— which means when Loki sinks teeth into her she's in no position to bite back, has no recourse for the tempering of her want of him but oaths and her free hand flying to grip and curve nails into his upper arm like a snake strike. Her heels dig into his back as she pulls herself tighter against his hips with her legs, letting out a hoarse little cry each time he rolls them against her. ]
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Now, he needs to be inside of her now, and thus he licks at the side of her neck where he's bitten her as he brushes his thumb along the wet and hard nub of skin and nerve endings he's been teasing, wrapping the rest of his fingers around himself so that he is lined up and ready to enter her. More kisses, across her shoulder and up towards her ear; he licks the shell of it, nose buried in her hair, as he snaps his hips forward in a desperate wanting to be entirely within her in as direct a movement as possible. ]
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She had been half right, when she spoke of what language would remain to her. She cannot remember please; all she has as her fingers scrabble for a hold on his shoulder and she turns her head towards his to kiss whatever of it she can reach is a helpless gasping ]
Loki—!
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The goal is to drive her mad or something like it, to be overstimulating and relentless — at least for now. ]
Alexandrie [ comes out as more groan than proper word as he kisses her. Pull, pinch, thrust and again and again. ]
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Her kisses in the time she seeks after him are becoming messy and desperate, her legs tremble against his back, slowly start to slide a little as their muscles stop obeying her commands and she can only weakly try to meet his thrusts— but try she does, helpless to do anything but strain against him seeking more. ]
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Will you fall apart for me, min hvite sommerfugl? [ He rotates his hips in a tight, small circle against her but still doesn't pull back. Now his hand comes up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing against her cheekbone. ] I would like to see it.
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