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Simeon holds you close against his rapidly heating body, his legs stretched out for you to use as a seat while you straddle him. Your ankles press divots into the small of his back, your arms wrap around his neck, and your forehead rests heavily against his. Every pulse of his cock inside you seems to hit your most sensitive nerves. You shift, grinding lightly on his hips for a beat or two before leaning against his hold, tilting your head back for him to press his soft lips against your dampened skin.
In the moment, moving feels somehow wrong.
In the moment, all you desire is for him to rest inside you…
His breath hikes as he draws his soothing presence across your collarbone with his tongue. “I love you,” he mumbles, though he’s already etched the words into your skin with his mouth a hundred times over. “It feels like heaven, sitting here with you for so long.”
You squirm again, desperate to get comfortable and rid yourself of this euphoric sensation riding through your muscles, feeling yourself clench on his dick before somehow settling once again. “I love you too,” you whisper in return.
A sense of fullness surrounds you, body and soul.
He bounces his hips on the mattress to get your attention, as though he thinks your mind might roam. It doesn’t. In fact, it remains purely on his touch, on his body warming more with each passing second, on his hands drawing music notes into a psalm on the backs of your shoulders. His cock twitches, hard and firm, yearning for you to ride him until you’re both wrecks begging for release.
Little does he know that, at this point, all it would take for you to crest over that edge is a bit of mental fortitude. Wonderful vibrations stem from your core as his cock pulses in anticipation; goosebumps rise in response to the air beneath his lips. You lean forward again, giving a leisured pump of your hips. The movement sends shivers up your spine, and clearly up his as well as evidenced by a momentary shudder. You’re about to climax without moving, all from the power of the mind. Whether his aura or angelic nature has something to do with it, you’re unsure, but you find yourself sweating and burning and squirming as you squeeze his cock.
He sighs in relief against the side of your neck. His hands take a journey to your hips, where he digs small ruts into your soft flesh.
You want to come. You need to come.
You open your mouth on the top of his shoulder and suck a bruise into the dark skin. He gasps lightly, his nails leaving crescents where they lie.
He bucks up his hips as slowly and gently as he can manage, wordlessly giving you permission to grind yourself to climax. Taking advantage of his generosity, you grind on his stiff cock, feeling the ecstasy build and build until you’re burrowing against his neck. He holds you close to his bare chest as the feelings overwhelm you, as your body flushes with fire rising into your face, as he whispers that it’s okay, keep going, you’re beautiful, your voice is like an angel’s, your moans like an ocean breeze, your body like the searing flood of air from an open oven—each sense taking over his every thought.
The way your body grasps his cock brings him to hold you in place for a few moments longer. “Almost there,” he sighs. “S-so close.” And his lungs inhale sharp and his taut hold tightens and his lips find yours as you take his breath away, as he gasps blasphemy against your tongue, as he releases inside you and fills you more than you thought possible, his cum dripping down onto his lap.
He chuckles, breathless and heavy, against your mouth. A kiss presses to your forehead, another to your cheek, to your nose, to your lips.
“Perfect,” he says. “Nothing short of perfection…”