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steve

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Nothing much changes, at least not at first, and she packs up her things with ease. The volunteers at the Home are nice enough that they make sure she gets to her new place and doesn't have to pay for a cab, and when she's dropped off, the old guy who's brought her -- Marcus, she thinks, she hadn't really bothered learning names -- leans out and asks if she needs help up.

"I've got it," she says, grabbing her bag and then the one box of things she's managed to collect. "Thanks."

He nods, then pauses before pulling away. "If you need any help, duck, you know where to find us."

Maeve is a bit taken aback, mostly by the sincere kindness in his voice, and she chews on her ragged thumbnail while murmuring a thanks, then heads for the door of her new building.

It's not amazing. She can't afford amazing, even with a roommate joining her soon, but it's close to Barton and it's clean and the bedroom she'd picked for hers has huge windows that let in as much natural light as she could ever hope for. Maybe it's not that big house she dreamed she'd have one day, but it's a start.

The boxes with her new furniture arrive just as she realizes she doesn't have any food. Or worse, no tea. She's got a kettle, at least, but nothing to put in the water when it boils, though she's distracted from that problem by the sudden arrival of many, many boxes. All of them containing something she's going to have to put together. The sofa, the stand for a TV, whenever they can afford one. Two bookshelves, a kitchen table and a set of chairs. Her bed. The mattress is propped up against the wall in her room and she figures the frame is probably the best place to start.

"Bloody hell," she mutters, standing in the midst of them all, just as the kettle starts to shriek from the kitchen.

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Fucking Kyle.

Steve had wanted to be there to help Maeve move, as weird as it is to help someone he desperately wants to fuck move out of what is pretty much an orphanage, but he couldn't get out of work. He asked Kyle to switch with him but he had 'hella tight plans, brah, sorry', so Steve was stuck there all day.

Once he's off, he looks up the directions to the place Maeve had texted him, and sets off at a brisk walk. On the way, he realizes that he probably shouldn't come empty handed. Maeve had said she didn't want anything special for her birthday, and she even seemed serious about it, unlike when other girls have told him they didn't want anything for Valentine's Day and it was a fucking lie, Jessica.

Still, it's her birthday and she's getting a new place, so he has to bring something. He stops into a drug store on the way and heads towards the greeting card aisle on instinct, but dismisses that pretty quickly. Flowers get nixed for the same reason, but his gaze lingers on a dark blue clay pot with a grouping of different little succulents planted in it. They wouldn't immediately die like cut flowers, and a plant is a good housewarming gift, right?

It kind of reminds him of Maeve, in a way. Beautiful. Tough. Maybe a little bit prickly, until you look harder and see the flowers, and realize how great the whole thing is. Yeah, it's kind of perfect.

He checks out and carries the plant carefully the rest of the way, all the way up the stairs of her building, and he feels a little nervous as he cradles it into one hand and knocks on her door. He's not, like, immediately expecting that they have sex, but it's on the table now. The thing he's been thinking about pretty obsessively for weeks could actually happen.

If he's lucky. God, he hopes that he's lucky.

It’s dumb. She knows it’s dumb, but all she wants at the moment is some bloody tea. Back home, when she lived on her own, she hadn’t needed to worry about whether or not there was food in the caravan because she hadn’t moved into from somewhere else. She had always been there; it was just that everyone else left.

On top of that, Steve is coming, and she has nothing to offer him. He probably isn’t expecting anything, but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t still have something besides a kettle of hot water. It’s too late, though, she hears the knock on the door and picks her way over flat packed boxes to get there.

“Hi,” she says when she opens the door. Steve is there and he has a plant. With one hand, she pushes her hair back from her face, then tugs an elastic off her wrist so she can pull it back into a quick ponytail. “It’s a fucking mess in here.”

There's a vague whistling on the other side of the door, and once it's opened Steve recognizes it as a tea kettle. It's not really a familiar sound to him, because his parents were coffee drinkers. Alcohol, mostly, but coffee too.

"Don't worry about it," Steve says as he steps inside and closes the door behind him, watching as she tugs her hair back from her face. Sometimes when he sees girls do that, it makes him a little jealous. He'd like to snatch his hair back from his face sometimes.

Once she takes the kettle from the stove, Steve meets her at the entrance of the kitchen and holds the potted plant up in front of him with a big grin.

"I got you a housewarming gift," he tells her, and then winks. "Not a birthday gift, as specifically requested."

Although she makes a face at him, her nose wrinkling and her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth briefly, Maeve is smiling when she takes the plant from Steve's hands. It's cute. Both the gift itself and the fact that he brought it, all while remembering she actively doesn't want to celebrate her birthday.

"Thank you," she says, turning in a circle where she stands as she looks for a place to put it. After a moment she steps over a flat box and moves toward the wide windowsill she's planning on setting up the sofa next to. It's a perfect space for the potted plant and she sets it there, then turns to look at Steve.

"What do you think?" she asks.

"I think it looks great. Beautiful," Steve says sincerely, but he isn't really looking at the plant. He's looking at her, and how her pink hair seems to glimmer in the sunlight coming in through the window.

He wants to kiss her, but he doesn't know if they're at a place where he can just kiss her for no reason. Just because.

After staring at her for probably longer than is necessary, he clears his throat and turns his head, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he looks around at all the boxes on the floor. "So, are we putting together furniture?"

"Yeah, unless you came over just to fuck me on the floor," she answers, turning to grin slyly at him from over her shoulder. It's not that she's been actively waiting for her birthday just so they can have sex, but she hasn't not been waiting either.

And she's prepared, with condoms and lube in the bedroom, set out on the floor with the rest of her personal supplies, because she's a bloody grown up now, in her own place, and she's not about to hide any of the shit she owns. Anyone who doesn't like that can fuck off.

"Which isn't out of the question, I guess, but then probably the bedroom, not out here. Shared space and all." Rue might not move in for a few days, but Maeve doesn't need her new roommate finding out somehow that the first thing she'd done here was have sex on the living room floor. With Rue's girlfriend's best friend, no less.

Maeve isn't exactly what anyone would call demure, which is something that Steve likes about her, but she still manages to take him by surprise. He lets out a little cough and clears his throat before turning to face her, smiling widely as he quirks a brow.

"That does sound a lot more fun than putting together furniture," he replies, matching his casual tone as he moves closer to her, carefully stepping over a box in the middle of the floor. Once he's in front of her, he curls an arm around her waist and tugs her against him, smiling as he reaches up with his other hand to brush a fallen strand of hair away from her face. "Maybe you should give me the tour."

"Right, well, living space," she says, gesturing to the living room behind Steve, even though he's got his arm around her and isn't actually looking at the room itself. "And you saw the empty kitchen over there near the front entrance. Rue's bedroom is down that hall, next to the bathroom."

She steps back, away from Steve, but not quite enough to dislodge his arm.

"Mine's this way, down this hall. It's not a very big place, but it's mine. Well, ours."

Steve finds it hilarious that he and his roommate have ended up dating another set up roommates-- if that's what he and Maeve are doing. They should probably talk about that at some point. But right now, she's looking looking up at him with those pretty brown eyes, and he decides that talking can happen later.

"Let's go check it out," Steve says as he suddenly sweeps her up into a fireman's carry, slinging her over his shoulder as he laughs and heads down the hall. He pushes the door to her bedroom open with his foot and looks down at the bare mattress on the floor, hooking one arm around the back of her knees to keep her in place as he looks around for whatever box might contain her bedding. "We should at least put a blanket down, right? We aren't heathens."

"What the fuck," Maeve says when he picks her up, but she's laughing, too. Whenever she's with Steve, she finds herself in this state she doesn't completely understand. She has more fun, honestly, than she's had in awhile, even if her defences are still up in most ways. Steve doesn't have to know that, though. He doesn't have to know about all the stupid shit in her life that has turned her into this prickly person just to keep herself safe.

"Speak for yourself," she answers, wriggling to get down off his shoulder so she can find her bedding. "I know I'm a heathen. Been told often enough."

Steve laughs and leans over to set Maeve down, watching as she moves about the room. She bends over to dig through a box and Steve stares blatantly at her ass, because he's pretty sure he's allowed to now. And it's a very good ass.

When she pulls out a blanket, Steve snatches it from her and shakes it out to spread it across the mattress. Once he's done, he turns and sweeps his arm out to gather Maeve against his side before tipping over to let them both fall onto it.

"There," he says as he rolls her onto her back and props himself up over her, smiling as he looks down at her. "Civilized."

"Once again," she answers, wrinkling her nose. "Speak for yourself."

There are moments like this when she finds herself wondering what the hell she's doing here. Steve is a good guy, he's been nice to her, he's good in bed -- well, he's been good with everything they've done so far, which she figures will translate to the rest -- and she's kind of freaked out by that. Most of the time she thinks she does a pretty good job of hiding it, like she is right now, but sometimes, when she's alone, she can't help but think of the last nice guy and how much she fucked that up.

"So how weird is it going to be when you and Robin are both over?" she asks, smirking.

He would be lying if he said he hasn't been thinking about this. Like, a lot. All the time, to the point of distraction. And not just this specifically, but all of her. Like how she's funny and hot and kind of mysterious in a sexy way that makes him want to know more about her.

But also yes, this specifically.

He ducks his head to kiss her jaw, only to groan at the question and let his head fall to the bed just above her shoulder. Laughing, he props himself back up and looks at her.

"This gonna be a thing, you always bringing up Robin? Are you trying to tell me something?" He teases, smirking as he kisses the point of her chin. "I think it'll be fine. Maybe we can work out some sort of exchange program."

"Yes, I'm secretly very into Robin," she dead-pans. Sometimes Maeve almost wishes she were into girls, if only because they tend to be a lot easier for her to get along with in general, and girls are pretty and they smell nice, but at the end of the day, it just doesn't do it for her the same way a guy does.

She shifts on the bed, hooks one of her legs around Steve's, and smiles up at him as she shrugs.

"I've never really had a roommate," she admits. "I'm just not sure how all this works."

"I could be into that," Steve quips, grinning down her as he reaches back to put a hand on her thigh, urging her to wrap her leg around him. She's wearing shorts, and it's easy to slide his hand up the back of her thigh, moving it slowly up and down the span of it few times before letting it glide higher, just under the hem of her shorts.

"I'd never had a roommate either. Me and Robin kind of have our own unique way of doing things, but it's working out okay," he says with a shrug, dipping his head down to nudge her chin up with his nose so that he can lean in to pepper her neck with soft, open-mouthed kisses. "I think the general rule is just like, no fucking in the communal areas."

Maeve punches Steve's shoulder lightly when he says he could be into that, but then hooks her leg around him, biting down on her smile as she does. It's still such a mess in her head, how much she likes him, how freaked out she is by that, and she spends so much of her time just not thinking about it that it tends to surprise her when it finally does come up again.

But she shoves it aside once more. She's not ruining this moment.

"Anything is better than living at a bloody orphanage anyway," she says, her hand roaming down Steve's back as he kisses her throat.

"Yeah, I was glad to miss out on that," Steve admits. "I had just turned nineteen when I got here."

But they probably shouldn't talk about the orphanage right now. Instead, Steve kisses his way along her chest, tugging the collar of her shirt aside a little so he can kiss the swell of her breast.

He sits up on his knees and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it aside as he reaches down to curl his hands around her hips. Her skin is so soft, and Steve hooks his thumbs under the hem of her top to slowly drag it up until he rests at the bottom of her bra.

"I've been thinking about seeing you like this pretty much constantly since the last time," Steve admits as he pulls her shirt up higher and helps get it over her head. Once it's off, he lets his gaze sweep over her with open appreciation. "You are so beautiful. It's insane."

"You're insane," she shoots back, even though she's helping Steve by wriggling her way out of her shirt and tossing it toward one of the boxes that have yet to be unpacked. Boys have liked her, pretty much ever since she had breasts, which had happened way too young for her liking, but she's still never been great with compliments.

It's not that she doesn't believe Steve, but Maeve knows way too many guys who would say shit like that just to get their hand in a girl's pants, only to turn around and tell everyone what a slut she was the next day. Steve's different and she knows he is, but that defense mechanism of denying the compliment still comes up.

So she silences it -- and the both of them -- by putting both her arms around him and leaning up for a kiss.

Steve has come to realize that Maeve isn't great at accepting compliments. Most of the girls that he's been with eat them up and try to act like they aren't expected, but Maeve is different. He doesn't mean to compare her with anyone else, but he doesn't think that he can, is the thing. She is so unlike anyone he's met.

She kisses him and Steve meets it hungrily, cupping the side of her face before sliding his arms underneath her back and tugging her upward until she's straddling his lap. Sunlight spills through the window and Steve looks at her again, letting it hit him all over again just how gorgeous she is. He doesn't say it this time, but it's obvious all over his face.

"I really want to go down on you," he says instead, looking almost surprised because he wasn't even expecting to say that. He wants to, of course, he just thought he'd be more chill about it. "It is your birthday, after all."

"You'll have a better chance of getting what you want if you stop mentioning my birthday," Maeve answers, pushing herself up into a more seated position on top of Steve, her hands braced against his chest. She grins, rolling her hips slowly, bearing down on him for the friction. Even through the layers they're still wearing, she loves how he feels, how the heat between her thighs only grows at the thought of what else they can spend the rest of the day doing.

It's all a lot more appealing than unpacking boxes.

"But points for being generous," she teases, stretching out on top of Steve once more, her lips grazing his when she speaks.

"Oh, I'm generous on all days," he assures her with a sly grin, giving her a heated kiss as he slides his hands along her back. "Not just on days that may or may not be special occasions."

He plants a knee into the mattress to give him enough leverage to tip Maeve back, holding her against his forearms as he lowers her back to the mattress. His eyes roam hungrily over her body, and he tugs open the button on her shorts with one hand as he lowers his head to mouth at her breasts, kissing along the swell of one before closing his mouth around her nipple.

It tightens under his attention and Steve sucks at it, letting his bottom teeth drag lightly over it before releasing it. As he kisses his way to her other breast to give it the same attention, he slides his hand into her shorts and into her underwear, groaning a little when he feels how wet she already is.

He lightly drags the tips of his fingers along her slit, letting one dip just barely inside of her before he pulls his hand away and moves up over her, shifting down to press a kiss to her hip. His hands curl into her waistband and he looks up at her with a smile.

"Lift up," he tells her, already sounding a little breathless as he starts to drag her shorts and underwear down.

With Jackson, it had always been so quick, at least at first. It had only been fucking and Maeve had wanted to badly to keep it that way, but when he'd tried to have more, she'd felt like it was the right thing to do. He was a good guy, after all, and he was really good at sex.

She'd been the problem there all along, as it turns out.

Sometimes she worries she's going to always end up being the problem. That Steve likes her now, but if things get more serious, he'll figure out she's sort of a mess and that she doesn't know how to be open with other people. She worries about it even now, when he's got his teeth scraping across her nipple, making her gasp and roll up toward his mouth.

But she's good at compartmentalizing and she pushes that all away, lifting her hips and helping him to push down her shorts, her tights, the underwear beneath. Getting it all off so she can be properly naked with him.

Steve doesn’t notice how Maeve gets a little quiet, but he thinks he can be forgiven because she’s suddenly naked underneath him, like really naked, and Steve is thoroughly distracted because she’s so fucking hot. He wants to put his mouth all over her. And now he can.

After kicking off his jeans, he settles between her legs on his stomach, half off the mattress in and uncomfortable sort of way that doesn’t even really register. He looks up at her and smiles before turning to press a kiss to her inner thigh, where her skin is pale and soft and and she smells so good.

“All good?” He asks breathlessly, glancing up at her as he presses a kiss to the juncture of her hip and thigh before using his palms to spread her thighs a little wider. He slides them up until his thumbs brush over her labia, spreading her open a little before leaning down to drag his tongue up the center of her. “Because I could do this all day.”

"What idiot would say no to that?" she asks, half-laughing, half-gasping when Steve's tongue drags over her cunt, over her clit. If that makes her sound like a slag, she doesn't care. Everyone is always so caught up in what girls do and say, but no one gives a shit about the boys, so Maeve made a conscious decision a long time ago to stop caring about what other people thought of her.

It's helped some. Hurt in other ways. The names still sting, but she's learned how to live with it.

And now it doesn't matter. She buries her hands in Steve's thick hair, holding onto him as she hooks her thigh over his shoulder, her foot smoothing down the length of his back. If he didn't want her, he wouldn't be here.

From what he's heard, Steve is good at this. Maybe it's because he likes doing it, like a lot. Especially when Maeve makes these hot little sounds, half-gasps and whimpers. Steve puts his all into it, lapping at her with his tongue and flicking it over her clit.

Shifting a bit, he moves onto one elbow so he can reach up and add his fingers, tracing them around her entrance before slipping one inside of her at the same moment that he sucks gently at her clit.

"Do you want to come like this first?" Steve asks, dragging the flat of his tongue over her as he looks up at her face. His cock twitches because he knows that he's going to be inside of her soon, but he's not in a rush. He wants to make her come. He wants to make her feel good, over and over again.

Not just because it's her birthday, but because he likes her, and she deserves it.

Does he expect her to be able to answer that? She rolls her hips up, perfecting the angle of his fingers inside of her with a little moan and then manages to lift her head off the makeshift bed they're using.

"Yeah," she breathes, then laughs again. "Yeah, make me come."

She knows it won't be hard. Steve is good at this, he knows what he's doing, and it's not that Jackson was bad at it, but she isn't sure he'd ever really had to try before her. Everyone had loved him because he was an athlete and he was gorgeous and it's not that Steve isn't gorgeous, but he's older and he's not wrapped up in all that high school bullshit anymore. And he clearly knows what he's doing.

Maeve moves her hips and Steve makes note of the angle as he adds a second finger, pumping them in and out as he focuses his mouth on her clit. His cock is crazy hard in his jeans and the knowledge that soon he'll get to be inside of her, have her wrapped around him, makes him let out a low groan as he presses his mouth to her.

He can't remember the last time that he wanted to fuck someone so bad. Probably Nancy, actually, and Steve wonders if that means that sex really is better when you actually really care about the person, and he's just been kidding himself.

Steve's fingers crook forward a bit and he hums when he finds the spot that makes Maeve gasp, rubbing at it as he closes his mouth over her clit and looks up at her with dark eyes. His hair spills across his forehead as he reaches up to cup one of her tits, dragging his thumb over her peaked nipple.

"Come on, Maeve," he murmurs, watching her as he flicks his tongue across her clit. "I want to see it."

She loves that he talks to her like this, that he's actually vocal, that he sounds like he actually wants to be here. Not that he's ever given her any reason to doubt that he does, but it's still good. It makes her feel good.

And so does that thing he keeps doing with his fingers and his tongue. Maeve can't even answer, all she does is gasp for air, a moan tearing out of her when his thumb brushes her nipple.

"Fuck," she exhales heavily and then it crashes over her, sharp and sudden. Her muscles pull tight, her entire body feels warm, and then she's coming. Her orgasm rolls over her in wave after waves, each cresting in more and more pleasure as she presses herself to Steve's mouth.

When she comes, Steve can feel it. Her body clenches down around her fingers and she gets a little wetter against his mouth. He puts his hand on her chest, letting his palm rest between her tits as he works her through it, keeping his fingers inside of her and breathing hotly against her clit. Once she relaxes, he eases away from her and turns his head to wipe his face on the inside of his arm before getting up to get out of his jeans.

After grabbing a condom from his pocket (yes, he had hoped and planned for this), he rolls it onto his stiff cock and climbs over Maeve, positioning himself between her thighs and planting a hand into the mattress next to her head.

“Is this good?” Steve asks, ducking down to kiss her as he reaches between them with his free hand to grip his cock. He’s pretty sure that he’s got the all clear here, but it’s their first time, so he wants to be very sure. “Can I?”

Edited 2020-12-03 21:42 (UTC)

God, it's so hot, the hand he puts between her breasts and when she's finally relaxed again, when he's asking if this is okay, she laughs and grabs for his shoulders so she can drag him closer.

"Come on," she says, urging him on by wrapping one of her legs over his hip. She digs her heel lightly into his ass, grinning up at him. "Fuck me."

If they had to wait for her to turn eighteen, they're not waiting any longer. Not after all this. She feels so good, her muscles loose and relaxed, her body warm, still buzzing with the aftershocks of her orgasm and she wants another. She wants him inside her. It isn't just about getting fucked either, she realizes. It's Steve she wants, not anyone else.

The answer makes him grin, and he leans down to kiss her, rubbing the head of his cock against her clit before sliding it down, nudging it against her entrance before rolling his hips to press inside of her. She's tight and hot and perfect and Steve groans against her mouth, pulling back to watch her face as he bottoms out, rocking against her as he moves his hand to curl it around her thigh.

"You feel amazing," Steve tells her, sliding his hand up to her hip and gripping her tightly as he digs his knees into the mattress and starts to fuck her with deep, rolling thrusts. He wanted to go slower but it feels like both of them have wanted this for so long, and now he can't seem to make himself hold back.

His gaze roams across her face, watching the shift of her expressions until her eyes widen enough for him to know that he's found a good angle. He keeps that angle, fucking into her as he gives her another kiss, more of a messy meeting of mouths than anything. "Fuck, Maeve."

Despite what everyone at Moordale thought of her, Maeve hasn't had a lot of sex. It's really only been Jackson, because he had been smart enough, at least for a time, to keep his mouth shut about everything they did. Smart enough not to make her seem like more of a slut than the school had already decided she was. Until, of course, he'd gone and fallen for her, but Maeve's not thinking about that now.

She's thinking about how, comparatively, Steve knows what he's doing in ways Jackson hadn't. He'd claimed to have been with loads of girls, but the more time she spends with Steve, the more Maeve thinks that might be a bunch of bullshit. That or none of the girls had realized he wasn't exactly that special either.

Steve is paying attention to her. She keeps her knees pressed to his sides, one leg around him, and she can tell he's watching her, waiting for the right angle and when he finds it, she lets him know. With a groan, she presses into the messy kiss and slides one hand between their bodies, finding her clit with her fingers.

"Fuck," she exhales into his mouth. "Like that. Jesus fuck, Steve."

The way that she says his name sends a shiver of pleasure through her, and he grins into the kiss as he drops down to one elbow to bring their bodies closer together. Her perfect tits press against his chest and her hand stays trapped between their bodies, and Steve lets out a groan against her jaw as he thrusts into her, pulling out nearly all of the way before sinking back into her, over and over.

He considers knocking her hand away so that he can rub at her clit himself, but the angle would be weird and she could probably do a better job of it, so Steve focuses on hitting that same spot with each roll of his hips. His free hand slides up her side, over her hip and along the dip of her waist, up over her ribs until he can cup her breast and pinch her nipple, rubbing his thumb over the tight peak of it as he gives her another kiss.

"Fuck, I'm not going to last much longer," Steve admits with a low chuckle, letting his mouth glide along her jaw so he can kiss her neck. He has pretty good stamina for his age, he thinks, but she feels so good, even better than he imagined. "I've wanted this for too long. Fuck, Maeve, you feel good."

Just hearing that, hearing he won't last much longer, hearing he wants her, has wanted her, it sets another rolling wave of pleasure through her. Her fingers are perfect and his dick is perfect and Maeve cries out as she comes again, her muscles clenching around Steve, making him feel even bigger inside of her.

"Shit, Steve," she pants. She wants him to come, she wants to see his face, see the way he looks when he does. Then she wants to rest for a little while, then climb on top of him and ride him until he comes again.

She slides her other hand down his back, over his ass, dragging him closer, deeper inside of her with each thrust.

Maeve comes around him again, going tighter and wetter around him, and Steve watches her face, groaning roughly as she pulls him in tighter. He doesn't need much more encouragement than that, and all he has in him is a few more erratic thrusts before he grinds his hips forward, burying himself inside of her as he comes with a moan of her name, spilling into the condom.

He drops to his elbows and buries his face in her neck for a long moment, kissing messily at her jaw before lifting his head to kiss her on the mouth. He tucks one arm underneath of her and manages to roll them over with his cock still inside of her, so that he's on his back against the mattress and she's splayed on top of them.

"Fuck, you're amazing," he breathes out, grinning up at her as she reaches up to brush her hair back from her face.

For a minute she can't really speak, especially once Steve shifts them and she's lying on top of him as she tries to catch her breath. She pulls back a little when he brushes her hair out of her face and then grins at him.

"Yeah, that was pretty spectacular," she agrees with a breathless laugh, then turns her face to the side, pressing her cheek against his chest.

Eventually she really will have to get all her shit together, unpack some boxes, build the furniture, but this was definitely a much better way to start her time in this flat.

"Hell of a way to christen your new place," Steve says with a laugh, letting one arm fall out to the side as he puts the other on Maeve's shoulder, tracing the curve of bone before sliding his hand down her back to her ass, gripping one cheek lazily.

His fingers dip down between her legs, touching her where her cunt is still stretched around his cock, and it gives a valiant twitch inside of her before slipping out. He curls the tips of two fingers inside of her just to feel her, wet and hot and absolutely perfect.

He shifts her up a little so that he can reach down between her legs and take care of the condom before it gets gross, tying it off and dropping it to the side to be dealt with later. Then, his head falls back to the pillow and he smiles at her, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her close to him.

"I immediately want to do it again," he admits, laughing as he leans up to kiss her chin. "I want to give you so many orgasms," he tells her, punctuating the statement with a kiss to the corner of her mouth, and then her jaw. "And if I also get to come, then hey, that's awesome, too."

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