He presses back, his own hand burying into her hair and holding her close, cradling the side of her head, smoothing a thumb across the rise of her cheek. He can taste her cunt and her mouth at once and the combination has him moaning against her. He breaks away to breathe, to hold his lips against hers and just graze them together.

"You need not be terribly gentle, but I cannot deny that I rarely have lovers who are so," he tells her and bumps his nose against hers.

There is a lot of appeal in that--having a lover that is personal, that is dearer than usual. So rarely does he engage with people he has known as long as her. He can imagine it, her gentle rocking hips as he is filled, as she drives into him, as she pushes him toward a peak that needn't require his spent cock. She could be less than gentle, could be rough or demanding, could pull his attention from himself and set him adrift. She could be harsh, though he cannot manage to picture that in his mind.

Strange. Only a few days ago it wouldn't have been hard to imagine it. He doesn't think so, at least.

"Though I admit to lacking the necessary equipment for such ventures."

He mouths along her cheek, starting at the corner of her lips, drifting gently toward her jaw. His hand drifts, grazes over her stomach and moves up her ribs. Nimble fingers find the curve of her breast and smooth across it, cupping the flesh as tenderly as anything.