Jaskier gasps and grinds against her, the rush of blood is its own sweet release. His eyes slam shut as he withdraws just so and then, as he snaps his hips forward, he comes with a shivering groan. His cock jerks and overflows, pulsing in her for a short eternity--at least that is how it feels to the bard.
His vision is white behind his eyelids and his forehead falls against the bed by the side of her head.
He grinds his hips in parody of thrusting, rolling them as he shakes, and then eventually he stills, all but boneless above her, held on shaking arms so that he doesn't twist the phallus between them and jar the straps. He kisses her against the side of her head, lazily, sloppily, with no clear path or purpose but the action itself.
Suddenly, he cannot seem to catch his breath, but still he smiles.
"I shall--" he pants very softly. "Never--be able--to hear--that word---again."
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His vision is white behind his eyelids and his forehead falls against the bed by the side of her head.
He grinds his hips in parody of thrusting, rolling them as he shakes, and then eventually he stills, all but boneless above her, held on shaking arms so that he doesn't twist the phallus between them and jar the straps. He kisses her against the side of her head, lazily, sloppily, with no clear path or purpose but the action itself.
Suddenly, he cannot seem to catch his breath, but still he smiles.
"I shall--" he pants very softly. "Never--be able--to hear--that word---again."