[He absolutely wants to look, even if it's just in pieces, bits of skin between kisses. And he moves, obligingly, so she can get his clothes off as well--shirt, jeans, pants--kicking off socks without moving away from her, all the touches of her hands, the heat of her skin against his, the friction of movement sending chills up his arms, up the back of his neck.
There's no thought for stopping. There's just Sera, under him, a warm comfort. It's easy this time to fit himself to her, to slip a hand between them--over the raised and flat planes of breast, stomach, hip--fingers pushed between her legs, just the start of a touch as he opens his mouth against hers for a deeper kiss. It's easy to get lost in this moment, in the warmth of her, the push of her against him, a reward in itself.]
no subject
There's no thought for stopping. There's just Sera, under him, a warm comfort. It's easy this time to fit himself to her, to slip a hand between them--over the raised and flat planes of breast, stomach, hip--fingers pushed between her legs, just the start of a touch as he opens his mouth against hers for a deeper kiss. It's easy to get lost in this moment, in the warmth of her, the push of her against him, a reward in itself.]