[ If nothing else, he knows full well that she's very good at complaining, very good at making her opinion known. If she wants to kick him out of her bed, or just off of her where he drapes, warm and sated and with a clinging film of sweat, she'll tell him. Or just knee him in the ribs. So the fact that she doesn't, well, that means something in and of itself, doesn't it?
Not that he's thinking about that. Not that he cares. Obviously.
Maybe she just doesn't want him to pull out, that discomforting emptiness that comes post sex. He's enjoying it himself, the warmth of her still wrapped around him, helping to coax out faint little tingling aftershocks of pleasure. It's nice. It's always nice, with her.
He grunts softly at first when she bumps against him, his fingers tracing idly over her thigh. Then rolls his eyes. ]
You like it. I can feel how much it gets you off.
[ Hard to lie to someone when he's inside of a living lie detector. ]
no subject
Not that he's thinking about that. Not that he cares. Obviously.
Maybe she just doesn't want him to pull out, that discomforting emptiness that comes post sex. He's enjoying it himself, the warmth of her still wrapped around him, helping to coax out faint little tingling aftershocks of pleasure. It's nice. It's always nice, with her.
He grunts softly at first when she bumps against him, his fingers tracing idly over her thigh. Then rolls his eyes. ]
You like it. I can feel how much it gets you off.
[ Hard to lie to someone when he's inside of a living lie detector. ]
Besides, not like your wardrobe isn't big enough.