#but... it's something

He spends so much time making you feel good– you come once in his mouth first, then twice on his fingers– that you practically have to command him to put it in and fuck you.

When he thrusts in, so slowly and gently, it's impossible to not melt under him from the stretch of his cock. You're so full and he's overwhelming all your senses in the best way; you can't help the few tears that slip free. Naturally he worries, assumes he hurt you, but you're quick to reassure him they're happy tears. You never thought you'd get to experience this level of intimacy with anyone before, the fact that it's with him makes it ten thousand times better. You melt further when he kisses you all over, giggling as he whispers praises and reassurances into your skin.

When you allow him to move, he's gentle. Contained. He focuses on every hitch of your breath and every moan, watches every reaction, follows the undulation of your hips, obeys every plea that falls from your lips. And it's good, it's great, he's making you feel so good. But there's something missing. Something sharp marking your skin, something his.

Your fingers tangle on the strands of his hair and you pull him down to where you need him, exposing your neck without a fear.

"Bite me," you say, and for a moment Sylus wonders if you took the aether core in his eye for yourself when he wasn't looking. You ask for just the thing he's been holding himself back from doing so this would be a pleasurable and wonderful experience for you.