Clint was only capable of affirmative sounds at this point. He leaned his head back to give her better access and tried hard to stop the rest from his body moving but it was really of no use. The muscles in his thighs were tensing hard, his whole lower body taut from pressing down into the mattress instead of thrusting up into nothing. That wouldn't stop the muscles in his groin from contracting rhythmically, though, or these little twitches from his neglected cock.
It was funny how it only needed Natasha's teasing voice to undo him like that, just the harmless touch of her lips, to elicit a thousand of naughty fantasies inside his head. To remind his body how it felt when her lips were somewhere else, and how it would be when her hand started wandering to where he needed to feel it so badly.
His body felt too tight from sensation - or more the lack of it - and heated, trails of sweat marking these areas where Natasha's mouth played along. He hardly even realized that his free hand started clutching at the sheets to stop itself from moving. This was torture, and the only kind of torture he would gladly accept anytime.
"Nat..."
Even her name on his lips was more of a needy whine at this point. But somehow he made it to let his hand rest loosely on her neck instead of trying to push her into any direction. That was not what this was about. He wanted to be all hers, he wanted her to take him apart, piece by piece, even if he would die of pleasure in the process.
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Date: 2014-09-20 09:14 am (UTC)From:It was funny how it only needed Natasha's teasing voice to undo him like that, just the harmless touch of her lips, to elicit a thousand of naughty fantasies inside his head. To remind his body how it felt when her lips were somewhere else, and how it would be when her hand started wandering to where he needed to feel it so badly.
His body felt too tight from sensation - or more the lack of it - and heated, trails of sweat marking these areas where Natasha's mouth played along. He hardly even realized that his free hand started clutching at the sheets to stop itself from moving. This was torture, and the only kind of torture he would gladly accept anytime.
"Nat..."
Even her name on his lips was more of a needy whine at this point. But somehow he made it to let his hand rest loosely on her neck instead of trying to push her into any direction. That was not what this was about. He wanted to be all hers, he wanted her to take him apart, piece by piece, even if he would die of pleasure in the process.