[ Miguel is truly everything, right now. She thinks of how hot he looks, mouth so eagerly taking her fingers in, eyes so beautiful. And all thought leaves her mind, really, when she feels the hot, wet and warm that is his tongue at her digits, imagining what it'd feel like to have him nestled between her thighs doing the very same thing. The sharp points of his fangs only adds to it allβ the element of danger, that Miguel uses these fangs for a real practical purpose on enemy and foe. Yet here he is, looking at her with a gaze so burning all blood rushes south, being careful not to get her fingers caught on those sharp canines.
Lottie moans at the sight, the sound pitching up when she feels his bare palm snake down her belly and settle at her core. She has to spread her legs wider to accommodate, being reminded so viscerally the difference between them as he stretches her shorts taut to fit himself inside. She whimpers hotly, rutting her hips with a bit more purpose once his thumb is nestled at her clit. She throbs beneath his fingertips, slick and wet from the eroticism of it all.
She doesn't even mind when he cuts her fingers, it only adds to it all because this is so very hot. One hand grips the base of his neck, while the other presses atop his hand, forcing him to press down harder in time with those four pinpricks.
It'sβ it hurts. Feels like the pain she'd get when he'd pull her hair too tight at her request, the kind that teeters on the edge of pleasure. He breaks skin, all four of his canines digging into her neck, his tongue lavishing at her, mixing saliva and blood on her milky skin. But that growl. She's pressed so tight against him she can feel the rumble, can practically taste the words mine, mine, mine fluttering in the air.
By the time his venom kicks in, she is cruelly almost there. So frustratingly close to orgasm and she can no nothing about it β the dizzying pace of her hips at his hand slows, a little unsure of herself as limbs growing heavy (numb?). She'd be a liar saying that this wasn't scary in some way, but she feels her safest in his arms. And, luckily still functional enough to slur out (whether it's understandable, who knows, but her affectionate and needy tone remains the same): ]
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Lottie moans at the sight, the sound pitching up when she feels his bare palm snake down her belly and settle at her core. She has to spread her legs wider to accommodate, being reminded so viscerally the difference between them as he stretches her shorts taut to fit himself inside. She whimpers hotly, rutting her hips with a bit more purpose once his thumb is nestled at her clit. She throbs beneath his fingertips, slick and wet from the eroticism of it all.
She doesn't even mind when he cuts her fingers, it only adds to it all because this is so very hot. One hand grips the base of his neck, while the other presses atop his hand, forcing him to press down harder in time with those four pinpricks.
It'sβ it hurts. Feels like the pain she'd get when he'd pull her hair too tight at her request, the kind that teeters on the edge of pleasure. He breaks skin, all four of his canines digging into her neck, his tongue lavishing at her, mixing saliva and blood on her milky skin. But that growl. She's pressed so tight against him she can feel the rumble, can practically taste the words mine, mine, mine fluttering in the air.
By the time his venom kicks in, she is cruelly almost there. So frustratingly close to orgasm and she can no nothing about it β the dizzying pace of her hips at his hand slows, a little unsure of herself as limbs growing heavy (numb?). She'd be a liar saying that this wasn't scary in some way, but she feels her safest in his arms. And, luckily still functional enough to slur out (whether it's understandable, who knows, but her affectionate and needy tone remains the same): ]
Miguel, please.. Close.