The sound he makes is far from dignified. Tension ripples through the muscles of his stomach, his thighs— he falls back heavily into the echo of her arms, the arch of her back.
"Yes," he breathes, the word trembling at the edges. Ronan's mouth feels so good, so perfectly promising— the whisper touch of his lips and the glide of his tongue an exquisite torture Rey can't seem to help but make her own, too. His fingers dig bruises into his thighs as he struggles against the urge to let his hips buck up. He could. Ronan would let him, he knows. But Rey?
no subject
"Yes," he breathes, the word trembling at the edges. Ronan's mouth feels so good, so perfectly promising— the whisper touch of his lips and the glide of his tongue an exquisite torture Rey can't seem to help but make her own, too. His fingers dig bruises into his thighs as he struggles against the urge to let his hips buck up. He could. Ronan would let him, he knows. But Rey?
Rey wants him dragged along the knife-edge.