Just being inside him was enough, but then he started moving, and Merlin, she wasn't sure she could ever get used to this.
It was a wonderful sort of strange, though; powerful, watching him as he arched and squirmed on her cock with that exquisite smile on his face. The last time they'd been together, he'd been fragile and needy and she'd taken him inside her, whispering you're home. But he was home here, too, writhing on her. He just didn't seem to need to be told this time.
"You're so tight," she whispered, burying herself as far as she could go in him, gasping as he writhed again. "Is this... what it feels like for you all the time?" She imagined not. Not quite. She didn't think any woman could be as tight at this.
Movement. It was time her to move. She started slow, careful, feeling her way, watching as he arched back and bared his throat to her and listening to the noises he made, the strangled little breath when she angled her hips just so. She gripped his thigh tight with her slick fingers, blunt nails digging into his skin and sank in deep, pulled back again. Merlin, she could feel every ripple. A rather feminine whine broke loose from her throat, at odds with everything she was doing.
This was glorious.
But he wanted hard, didn't he? That's what he'd whispered. Fuck me hard. She gripped him tight, slipped back, and drove herself into him with all the force she could muster.