( this is the part that really gets him going, after lottie's had her due in every way that matters, in the way that she's slightly rougher. the way that he's had to wait, desperation and need sitting on edge together, pulling at his fraying patience. he knows she knows how she looks, knows she knows she's fucking gorgeous and gorgeous fucking, but that doesn't mean she gets tired of hearing it, doesn't mean that marc gets tired of seeing it, tired of saying it.
it's an easy win for her, using her body against him to distract him. to force him into a for-him-and-by-technicalities-only early night. she nips at his lip, the sensation sharp and not particularly painful, not by marc's definition, but it's enough for his breath to hitch, to catch. he's hot enough for her, wants enough for her that the tip of his dick is wet with pre-cum, and he nuzzles against her body. trails his kisses haphazardly down the line of her ribs, below the curve of her tits. across the tender skin, enough that he can feel the minute changes in her breath, feel her words as she speaks and fuck. he moans into her, heavy, the motion of his hand running up and down his dick seeming loud in the interludes, the silence between the few words they share.
marc is not a smart man, and despite everything, despite what he'd prefer, he is an emotive man. everything he feels and thinks is ready to read in his expression, his gaze, the deepness and clarity — or otherwise — of his gaze.
now it speaks of his adoration of lottie, of how much he wants her, how close he is. how desperate, how much words — really, anything that's not base and instinctual &madsh; is beyond him. )
[ He bows his head and nuzzles into her, weak and pathetic and so very needy. For her, for her help. He begs with his grunts, his kisses on her skin that is sweat dappled and blazing hot. He pleads with his moans, how his shoulders heave and tremble as he sits on the precipice. He looks at her like he so desperately wants to take the plunge but he just needs a push, maybe wants her to take his hand and do it with him.
And god, maybe she willβ later. Her pussy is starting to throb painfully again because Marc, as always, never knows how stupid hot she finds him. How seeing him like this ruins her, makes her so turned on her brain is starting to think me me me and not Marc Marc Marc. She wants to swallow every sound he makes and wear him like a blanket, mark his body in her designer lipstick and give him hickey after hickey. So everyone knows mine mine mine. ]
Where d'you want it? Huh? On my tits? My face? Inside?
[ He makes her feel so special and loved and possessive that she begins to ramble, finally settles on wanting to make him feel good above all else. But then she says inside and she can't help but whine weakly, the authority leaving her voice for the briefest of moments. She nudges him closer with the back of her heel on his ass, ]
Stick it inside and come in me, babe. Wanna feel you when you do it.
( if her voice hadn't wavered when she said inside, marc's response would have been different. lottie's body is everything, from her tits to her ass to her legs, and he'd have said tits, but her voice catches, hitches, whines, and it's enough to have the thought catch, to halt, to be interrupted — abruptly — between consideration and utterance.
marc is difficult. contrary. dislikes agreeing inherently, but—.
this is different. it's an odd balance, the middle-ground between marc agreeing with and bucking obstinately against what he's told to do, but lottie has an advantage in that she's her. truthfully, he doesn't need to be insider her to come, just needs to know that she wants it, wants him, and he presses against her, presses into her even before she nudges him with his foot. his noise, his utterance, is guttural and underliberate. it escapes his throat and he barely notices, his everything fixed on lottie, on the feeling that seems to extend from head to toe.
(no, that's not quite true—. —throbbing and rush; intense and tight and warm—))
—Fuck, ( in spite of himself. strained. ) Lottie—.
[ Her jaw hangs slack and her fingers clench around his stupid, stuffy, shirt, when he makes his decision (like she gave him much a choice, cooing into his ear where she wanted him) and eases himself inside. They've done this so many times before, but it will always feel electric every time. She trembles, sounds a decibel shy of pitiful at how he stretches her β even if, arguably, she is so very wet he just slips right in, so easy, so eager β at how full and good she suddenly feels. Like she's ascended someplace that isn't quite the Mission, that isn't quite atop Marc's stiff desk. But still very much here with him, him sinking into her pussy to the hilt. She sees starsβ ]
Ohhh, [ He throbs inside her and she pulls him even closer. ] yyyyes.
[ It's drawn out, stretched and so very pleased it might as well be a purr. And it doesn't matter how strained he sounds, Lottie is still very intent on getting words out of him. Especially if it means knowing just how much she's got him in a chokehold, her creamy cunt clenching tight around him with each second he stays stationary. ]
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no subject
it's an easy win for her, using her body against him to distract him. to force him into a for-him-and-by-technicalities-only early night. she nips at his lip, the sensation sharp and not particularly painful, not by marc's definition, but it's enough for his breath to hitch, to catch. he's hot enough for her, wants enough for her that the tip of his dick is wet with pre-cum, and he nuzzles against her body. trails his kisses haphazardly down the line of her ribs, below the curve of her tits. across the tender skin, enough that he can feel the minute changes in her breath, feel her words as she speaks and fuck. he moans into her, heavy, the motion of his hand running up and down his dick seeming loud in the interludes, the silence between the few words they share.
marc is not a smart man, and despite everything, despite what he'd prefer, he is an emotive man. everything he feels and thinks is ready to read in his expression, his gaze, the deepness and clarity — or otherwise — of his gaze.
now it speaks of his adoration of lottie, of how much he wants her, how close he is. how desperate, how much words — really, anything that's not base and instinctual &madsh; is beyond him. )
no subject
And god, maybe she willβ later. Her pussy is starting to throb painfully again because Marc, as always, never knows how stupid hot she finds him. How seeing him like this ruins her, makes her so turned on her brain is starting to think me me me and not Marc Marc Marc. She wants to swallow every sound he makes and wear him like a blanket, mark his body in her designer lipstick and give him hickey after hickey. So everyone knows mine mine mine. ]
Where d'you want it? Huh? On my tits? My face? Inside?
[ He makes her feel so special and loved and possessive that she begins to ramble, finally settles on wanting to make him feel good above all else. But then she says inside and she can't help but whine weakly, the authority leaving her voice for the briefest of moments. She nudges him closer with the back of her heel on his ass, ]
Stick it inside and come in me, babe. Wanna feel you when you do it.
no subject
marc is difficult. contrary. dislikes agreeing inherently, but—.
this is different. it's an odd balance, the middle-ground between marc agreeing with and bucking obstinately against what he's told to do, but lottie has an advantage in that she's her. truthfully, he doesn't need to be insider her to come, just needs to know that she wants it, wants him, and he presses against her, presses into her even before she nudges him with his foot. his noise, his utterance, is guttural and underliberate. it escapes his throat and he barely notices, his everything fixed on lottie, on the feeling that seems to extend from head to toe.
(no, that's not quite true—.
—throbbing and rush; intense and tight and warm—))
—Fuck, ( in spite of himself. strained. ) Lottie—.
no subject
Ohhh, [ He throbs inside her and she pulls him even closer. ] yyyyes.
[ It's drawn out, stretched and so very pleased it might as well be a purr. And it doesn't matter how strained he sounds, Lottie is still very intent on getting words out of him. Especially if it means knowing just how much she's got him in a chokehold, her creamy cunt clenching tight around him with each second he stays stationary. ]
Feels good, huh? You like it?