[She certainly can feel how he quakes, and it spurs her on to tremble along with him, voice rising to a nigh-constant drone--to scrabble at his back in desperate encouragement of the movements of his mouth and his hands and hell whatever it takes to get over the finish line]
Nn--Jacob, you-- I-I'm gonna--
[Before she can finish the warning, her hips judder helplessly forward--her whole body clenches tight around him with a hoarse cry]
[He makes a low sound against her - doesn't slow the motion of his tongue, deep and firm and intent, pressing onward as though he means to send her over one finish line and straight past the next]
[Then comes another sound, soft and wavering and desperate, and his rhythm stutters and falters somewhat. There against the floor of the changing room, his toes curl; his back arches, and the motion of his hand becomes quicker more focused]
[And just like that, he's coming, too, shaking hard as the coil of pleasure that's been winding higher inside him all this time finally draws tight enough to snap]
[perhaps even with eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back she can feel the sudden break in tension as he finally goes over the edge; perhaps that's what pushes her higher--longer--a weightless eternity with nothing except the warm points where they touch. She grips even more tightly, as if she could take him along even here]
[Perhaps she can - perhaps she is - because he shakes and shivers against her for long, endless moments, adrift in a sea of sensation]
[Even now, though, his focus is on her as much as it is him - reading her cues, and the tension in her body, and the grips of her hands, so that he knows when to begin to ease back, the insistent lapping slowing to something more gentle as he works her through it]
[His own hand has slowed to a barely-there rubbing, working through the last few tremors]
[It's a good while before she comes back to herself--feels like it, anyway--and she sinks back into the chair with a shuddery sigh, breaths panted and limbs like rubber.
Not too long after she thinks to pull at his shoulders, urging him back to her lap again--or just to have him closer in general]
[He goes where he's urged - though this time, instead of lying across her lap he comes up to sit in it, sprawled against her, chin resting on her shoulder]
Holy shit.
[He sounds breathless and more than a little awed]
[He makes a muffled noise that is probably agreement, and then just kind of melts against her. He does not seem like he's in a hurry to move for a minute,]
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Nn--Jacob, you-- I-I'm gonna--
[Before she can finish the warning, her hips judder helplessly forward--her whole body clenches tight around him with a hoarse cry]
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[Then comes another sound, soft and wavering and desperate, and his rhythm stutters and falters somewhat. There against the floor of the changing room, his toes curl; his back arches, and the motion of his hand becomes quicker more focused]
[And just like that, he's coming, too, shaking hard as the coil of pleasure that's been winding higher inside him all this time finally draws tight enough to snap]
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[Even now, though, his focus is on her as much as it is him - reading her cues, and the tension in her body, and the grips of her hands, so that he knows when to begin to ease back, the insistent lapping slowing to something more gentle as he works her through it]
[His own hand has slowed to a barely-there rubbing, working through the last few tremors]
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Not too long after she thinks to pull at his shoulders, urging him back to her lap again--or just to have him closer in general]
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Holy shit.
[He sounds breathless and more than a little awed]
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Fuck.
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[At some point she has enough energy to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, and does so]
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...Was that okay? Are you okay?
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...you kidding? That was pretty amazing.
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Wasn't sure if it was too much. Sometimes I get carried away.
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[Possibly he is flushing again; certainly his neck goes pinker]
...it for sure wasn't too much.
I kinda like you getting carried away.
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...You sure?
[Trails aimless lines down his back]
You didn't mind having to wait or nothing...?
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...kinda liked that, too.
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[He can feel her flush, but she only leans in, perhaps taking advantage of how he can't see her expression]
...Wouldn't mind doing more, uh. Stuff like that. Sometime. If you wanted.
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...I want.
Like - whenever.
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[But her voice is warm--a little shy, almost--and she hugs him closer, nuzzling at the nape of his neck]
What kinda things don't you like? There's gotta be something that's off limits.
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[He shivers again - nuzzles back, soft, like a cat leaning into a petting hand]
[But it's a genuine question, and he's quiet for a minute or two, thinking it over. Then finally, slowly:]
I guess, like. If we ever try out... handcuffs or whatever. I'd wanna take it slow?
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[Her voice goes a little higher than expected,]
A-ah, that's the stuff you like?
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[His voice is oddly self-conscious, in a way that does not seem to be entirely embarrassment]
And I ain't really... in a hurry to. You know? It ain't, like. Off limits, exactly, but it ain't really the top of my list.
[He's quiet for another beat or two. Then, quiet:]
...how bout you? There anything you ain't into?
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Yeah, I don't--I aint interested in doing nothing like that, or--having it done. Nothing that'd for real hurt, neither.
[She shifts, pulling away enough to be able to see his expression; hers is a little worried]
...You'll tell me if ever something ain't okay, right?
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...yeah. I'd say.
[Some of the tension has gone out of him, too, at her reply, but his brow is creased, just a little, with concern]
You, too, right?
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[She nods, solemn, before lightening to a crooked smile]
I mean. Goes against the whole point, right? If we ain't both enjoying it, there's so many better things we could be doing instead.
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