"I need you inside me, Roman."
He exhales hard against my neck. "Not yet. I want to feel every second of you first."
He flips us gently this time. My back hits the cushions. He's over me, jeans still on, mouth moving down my throat, sucking soft marks that feel more like promises than bruises. His hand slips inside my jeans and under my panties. Fingers glide through my wetness, circle my clit slow and careful, like he's memorizing every reaction on my face.
"Already so ready for me," he says against my skin. Voice rough with something deeper than lust. "Been waiting for this. For you."
He slides one finger in. Then two. Crooks them just right. I arch, moan loud. He doesn't speed up. Just keeps that steady rhythm, thumb brushing my clit, watching me fall apart like it's the most important thing he'll ever do. "You're shaking," he whispers. "Gonna come for me like this?"
I shake my head. “I want your mouth."
He smiles against my collarbone, soft, almost shy for a second. "Anything you want."
He slides down, yanks my jeans and panties off. Spreads my thighs. Blows a cool breath over me, makes me jerk. Then his tongue. Flat. Slow. From entrance to clit. He groans low, like tasting me is everything.
He kisses and licks me slow and worshipful. Fingers curling inside. Every time I get close he eases back, kisses my inner thigh, murmurs my name like a prayer. When I finally tip over I scream his name. Legs trembling. His forearm pins my hips so I can't escape the aftershocks while he licks me through it, soft and patient.
He climbs back up. Kisses me so deep I taste myself and him mixed together. I fumble with his belt. He helps this time, no teasing, just urgency. Jeans shoved down. Cock thick and leaking.
I stroke him once. Twice. He groans, hips jerking into my hand, but his eyes stay on mine. "I need to be inside you. Need to feel you around me."
He positions his cock at my entrance. Drags the head through my folds. Teases my clit until I'm begging. "Roman, please."
"Say my name when I'm deep," he says, voice wrecked. "I want to hear it."
He pushes in slowly, inch by inch. Eyes locked on mine the whole time. When he's fully seated we both freeze. Breathing hard. He's so deep it feels impossible. "Goddamn," he rasps. "You feel like home."
"Move."
He starts slow. Long, dragging strokes. Every time he bottoms out he grinds gentle circles, pubic bone rubbing my clit. My nails dig into his shoulders. His mouth finds mine again, messy, desperate, full of everything he doesn't say out loud.
I hook my legs higher. He goes deeper. Harder. Couch creaking. But even when the pace picks up, his hand cups my face, thumb stroking my cheek like I'm the only thing keeping him grounded.
"Gonna come again?" he asks, voice breaking.
"Yes…don't stop…”
"Come on me. Let me feel you. Let me keep you."
I shatter. Walls pulsing around him. He fucks me through it, thrusts turning sloppy, but he never looks away. "Gonna fill you," he warns, forehead pressed to mine. "Gonna stay inside you so you never forget this."
"Do it. Please."
He slams deep one last time. Groans long and low. Cock throbbing, pulsing, flooding me. His whole body shakes. When the last pulse fades he doesn't pull out. Just stays buried, breathing against my neck, arms wrapped around me like he'll never let go.
We stay like that. Panting. His hand strokes my hair back from my face, gentle.
"You're not going anywhere," he says quietly. Not an order, a plea. He kisses my temple, soft and lingering. "Time for a shower. Then bed." His voice is low, wrecked from everything we've done, but there's this steady certainty in it that makes my chest ache in the best way. I clench around him on purpose onelast time. He hisses through his teeth, arms tightening like he's anchoring himself to me.
He doesn't rush to pull out. Just stays buried a minute longer, breathing against my hair, one hand sliding slow up and down my back. Then he eases out careful, like he hates the separation even for a second. Scoops me up without asking, my legs wrap his waist on instinct, his cock still half-hard brushing my ass as he carries me to the bathroom.
Under the spray the water runs hot. He sets me on my feet, turns me so my back's to his chest, and starts washing my hair. Fingers working the shampoo in slow circles, massaging my scalp like it's the only thing that matters right now. I lean back into him. His other arm bands across my stomach, holding me close while the suds slide down my skin.
No words for a while. Just the water, his steady breathing, the way his chin rests on my shoulder sometimes like he can't stand not touching every inch.
When we're both rinsed he shuts the water off, grabs a towel, dries me off gentle but thorough, every curve, every mark he left earlier. Then he dries himself quick, tosses the towel, and carries me to the bedroom again.
Drops me on the sheets. Climbs in behind me. Pulls me back against his chest, one arm under my head like a pillow, the other wrapped around my waist. His cock nestles against my ass, warm and heavy, but he doesn't push. Just kisses the back of my neck once, soft.
