Hakkai pants harshly against his collarbone, his head tucked in close under Eiffel's jaw and hard shudders running down his spine as they move together.
"You-- feel so good," he manages, his own voice as ragged-edged as the sounds Eiffel is making. One of his hands moves restlessly, caressing what he can reach of neck and shoulder, while the other keeps its handful of curly hair: both his wrists are caught under the weight of their bodies, locking them together. Sweet frustration is winding his every nerve tight, his thrusts rubbing the soft knit of his underwear against exquisitely sensitive skin but not quite hard enough, not quite in time with the throb of his hunger.
"Is this oka--aah!" Halfway through the question, they move together and suddenly the rhythm is perfect, Eiffel's rolling hips are perfect, and his voice falls apart into a wordless shout as orgasm picks him up and shakes him to pieces against Eiffel's chest.
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"You-- feel so good," he manages, his own voice as ragged-edged as the sounds Eiffel is making. One of his hands moves restlessly, caressing what he can reach of neck and shoulder, while the other keeps its handful of curly hair: both his wrists are caught under the weight of their bodies, locking them together. Sweet frustration is winding his every nerve tight, his thrusts rubbing the soft knit of his underwear against exquisitely sensitive skin but not quite hard enough, not quite in time with the throb of his hunger.
"Is this oka--aah!" Halfway through the question, they move together and suddenly the rhythm is perfect, Eiffel's rolling hips are perfect, and his voice falls apart into a wordless shout as orgasm picks him up and shakes him to pieces against Eiffel's chest.