He keeps her gaze and lets her tug him in, her leg propped on his shoulder. He bends forward to cage her in his arms and, with his shift, her knee is pressed up, stretches and shifts so that he can sink straight down into her warm and waiting cunt. He slides in slowly, firmly, and sucks in a deep breath as his swollen, aching cock is enveloped. The is throbbing as he penetrates her and, when his hips sit snugly against her, he turns his head again and nips at the inside of her thigh.
Jaskier savors a moment, adjusts, and frees one hand to ghost along her side. It settles on one of her breasts and he cranes forward, stretches her just a bit farther, and kisses along the other breast as he withdraws. He sinks in as his hand finds her nipple, and withdraws and again.
The pace he sets it almost jaunty--is certainly bouncing and cocky, a jig rather than a ballad. The spring in the snap of his hips is aided by the knowledge that no matter how overcome he is, no matter how his cock and balls ache and pull into himself, he will not crest again before she does. It will be sweet torture, driving into her like this, and he looks forward to every second of it.
He is a musician at heart and his fingers and mouth keep time with the metronome snap of his hips. He could keep a beat in his sleep, could maintain it with the barest focus, and nothing about his stroke or depth falters as he fucks into her. He could keep this up for long hours, so long as he wore that ring. He wonders how long it will be until she realizes that.
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Jaskier savors a moment, adjusts, and frees one hand to ghost along her side. It settles on one of her breasts and he cranes forward, stretches her just a bit farther, and kisses along the other breast as he withdraws. He sinks in as his hand finds her nipple, and withdraws and again.
The pace he sets it almost jaunty--is certainly bouncing and cocky, a jig rather than a ballad. The spring in the snap of his hips is aided by the knowledge that no matter how overcome he is, no matter how his cock and balls ache and pull into himself, he will not crest again before she does. It will be sweet torture, driving into her like this, and he looks forward to every second of it.
He is a musician at heart and his fingers and mouth keep time with the metronome snap of his hips. He could keep a beat in his sleep, could maintain it with the barest focus, and nothing about his stroke or depth falters as he fucks into her. He could keep this up for long hours, so long as he wore that ring. He wonders how long it will be until she realizes that.