"I see you too," she told him softly.
Nothing screamed 'endgame' like a man who’s forgotten everything, lost in his own mind, and found himself guided back home by the sheer memories of the woman he loved. "We're endgame," she echoed her thoughts. "Who would've thought, right?"
He chuckled softly, his hands letting go of her hips, letting her touch his skin under the shirt he'd been wearing for the party. He moved his hand down her left thigh, caressing the skin under the knee and hiking it up to her chest, flipping her in a way she loved, back to the ground. His other hand held him up from crushing her as he lined up, brushing himself against her folds.
"Are you sore?"
She flushed, which was ridiculous considering how naked and intimate they already were. "A bit."
He smiled, his mouth coming down on hers in a soft, languid kiss, his stubble rasping over her skin, and she was pretty sure her entire mouth and chin and cheeks and neck and breasts would be suffering from beard burns. Oh, she wouldn't have it any other way. He entered her slowly this time, carefully, the angle of her one leg hiked up making him slide in easier that shewould have thought, till he was buried completely to the hilt. She didn't think his size would ever stop surprising her.
"Gah, you feel so good," she muttered as he littered her neck with kisses and bites.
"Yeah?"
"Mm-hmm," she whispered on a ragged breath, biting her lip. He pulled out slowly before entering her again, hard, and she keened, not having realized that this angle made him hit her g-spot directly.
"You must, ah," she panted as he started moving his hips slowly, pulling back and thrusting in again, hitting her spot again, "oh my god, practice, ah yes, for this."
He bit the underside of her jaw as her fingers dug into his back. "Practice makes perfect."
His rough growl against her skin turned her on even more as she closed her eyes, letting herself feel everything happening over her, inside her, letting herself feel his tremendous arousal for her, his aching hunger for her, the need in his groin to take her.
"But we love imperfections, sexy."
He groaned, his hips speeding up slightly but still very much slow. "Perfect is overrated," he reminded her.
"Exactly," she muttered, thrusting back at him. "Give me your scars."
With a loud groan, he gave up and thrust inside her so hard he mind blanked out for a second, her walls clamping all over him, gripping him like they would never let go. He pulled out and pushed in again, his movements getting more erratic, the angle of his penetration making her cry out over and over again.
She felt his arousal reach its peak, his movements getting wilder as he thrust into her, nipping at her jaw. "Fuck, Zephyr. I'm close."
Knowing she had to come with him, she gripped his hair with one hand, pulling him up for a heated kiss, and put her other finger on her clit, rubbing it furiously, feeling him enter her again and again, feeling him get so turned on knowing what she was doing and the sensation was more than she could bear. With a cry drowned around his tongue, she felt her entire body lift up the grass as her walls quivered around him, exploding in heat, her finger on her nub stopping. His own replaced it, rubbing it continuously, prolonging her climax as she shook in his arms, clamping all around him, gripping his hair so hard and kissing him for all she was worth. Her clenching walls spurred him on and with a sound deep from his gut, he came too, thrusting just one last time inside her, before collapsing on top of her, breathing heavily.
She wrapped her arms around him, mewling in pleasure as he pulled out of her, and dropped to the side.
Catching their breaths together, she grinned up at him, feeling icky and knowing she would have to take a bath, but happy.
Zephyr was happy. He was happy.
After a long time, they were happy.
And for now, that was all that mattered.