[ His voice feels like too-close thunder, dark and reverberating in her head. Her fingers knot in his hair, pulling when he bites. Eyes squeezing shut, she wrenches her other arm from his grip to claw at his side, up his back. She can't feel stitches, so she figures it's fine. That, she decides in the back of her mind, is the line. Being able to feel the stitches under her fingertips. She buries her nails in the meat of his shoulder.
Her legs shake from how tightly she has them wrapped around him. Her hips ache from being splayed, a dull, throbbing soreness that serves only to make her buck up harder as she shifts one leg slightly. Tendrils of climbing, velvet pleasure wind through her body, and she sobs, clutching at him. ]
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Her legs shake from how tightly she has them wrapped around him. Her hips ache from being splayed, a dull, throbbing soreness that serves only to make her buck up harder as she shifts one leg slightly. Tendrils of climbing, velvet pleasure wind through her body, and she sobs, clutching at him. ]