[It is a little overwhelming, somehow, like this compared to how it was moments earlier. His hands and mouth are reason enough, not to mention the part of him that's pressing a little too boldly against her stomach. But it's the sounds — her own stuttered breathing, catching in her throat when his mouth descends past her collarbones to leave wet sounding kisses on her breasts. They're not even really going to town yet, (maybe it's the acoustics of the igloo, or her own Altean sense of hearing) but she sounds loud to her own ears. Lewd.
She's getting really turned on.
In a bid to relieve some of the ache building between her legs, she arches her hips against his, grinding against him. Who's dry humping whom.]
just using bad icons from now on
She's getting really turned on.
In a bid to relieve some of the ache building between her legs, she arches her hips against his, grinding against him.
Who's dry humping whom.]