[ he has that feeling again that he's in too deep. that he's invested too much of himself into this when the odds may not be stacked in his favor. to him this has been a nearly perfect morning despite the restless night, sparking a hope anew that perfect mornings can indeed exist in a life where his own needs come secondary to ravka's. in this moment he doesn't care if alina ever loves him. he just hopes that she'll stay.
her skin is flushed a lovely shade of raspberry-red, the same red that he suspects might be dusting his own cheeks from his own arousal. he pulls his hand back, wet fingers gripping her thigh as he slides his tongue inside of her instead, a soft groan in his throat as she pulls at his hair. it's a wonder they ever got here at all, but he thanks the saints and all their suffering that the sun, the moon, and the stars have aligned to grant him this moment.
he draws back to catch his breath, carefully slipping two fingers inside of her this time, curling them gently. ]
Am I embarrassing you? [ a breathless chuckle, and then he's pressing his tongue to her clit once more. maybe he is. maybe he's embarrassing himself. it hardly matters in this moment, because he still wouldn't change a thing about it. her heel digs into his spine, urging him closer, and he complies without protest, his fingers moving quickly and his tongue following suit.
he can't get used to doing this, because he'll miss it if this is the one and only time. he'll miss the way her skin warms and her breath grows tight, how her fingers grip his hair with urgency, how she responds to his touch like pressing keys on a piano. saints, what a foolish notion to miss something while he's right in the middle of doing it, but he's grown so used to the impermanence of the things around him, of his family, of his friends, of the places he's called home. it all inevitably comes to an end, and usually a bitter one. he wants to hold on to the hope that this might be different, but there's always that small prickle of doubt that he spends his entire day pushing back against — and even now, he has to shove it from his mind to refocus his attentions on pushing alina closer and closer to the edge. ]
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her skin is flushed a lovely shade of raspberry-red, the same red that he suspects might be dusting his own cheeks from his own arousal. he pulls his hand back, wet fingers gripping her thigh as he slides his tongue inside of her instead, a soft groan in his throat as she pulls at his hair. it's a wonder they ever got here at all, but he thanks the saints and all their suffering that the sun, the moon, and the stars have aligned to grant him this moment.
he draws back to catch his breath, carefully slipping two fingers inside of her this time, curling them gently. ]
Am I embarrassing you? [ a breathless chuckle, and then he's pressing his tongue to her clit once more. maybe he is. maybe he's embarrassing himself. it hardly matters in this moment, because he still wouldn't change a thing about it. her heel digs into his spine, urging him closer, and he complies without protest, his fingers moving quickly and his tongue following suit.
he can't get used to doing this, because he'll miss it if this is the one and only time. he'll miss the way her skin warms and her breath grows tight, how her fingers grip his hair with urgency, how she responds to his touch like pressing keys on a piano. saints, what a foolish notion to miss something while he's right in the middle of doing it, but he's grown so used to the impermanence of the things around him, of his family, of his friends, of the places he's called home. it all inevitably comes to an end, and usually a bitter one. he wants to hold on to the hope that this might be different, but there's always that small prickle of doubt that he spends his entire day pushing back against — and even now, he has to shove it from his mind to refocus his attentions on pushing alina closer and closer to the edge. ]