He depresses the digital control with his thumb, and the device turns OFF again for the third time in a minute, earning him a muffled groan and a raised shiver of her hips.
“Mm”, Jim grunts with her, brows furrowed, his teeth sinking into the bottom lip of his smile before letting the flesh pop free. He thumps with arousal, pained by its brushes with regulation boxer briefs, in an existential BATTLE to imagine why he has yet to replace the glittery, translucent blue vibrator bobbing from her own pulses, inside and out, her soft, pink folds, “That’s quite the face you’re making at me under there.”
He cants his head up at her. It’s probably this view he has, kneeling between her legs. Slyly, he clicks the button in again and does not turn it ON. He lets her starve. He moans cruelly, watching her body spark, her hips grappling in dissatisfaction, a star spread open on his bed and burning alive and asked not to become, to hold back. Luckily for her, she does what she should. She does what he told her. Her hands remain by her sides, grasping blindly at the sheets.
She does so WELL. He could probably indulge her. A little. RED FACED, chuckling, he crawls onto the bed over her, so he can taste the cries she can’t quite kill behind a clamped mouth when he releases the button, her chest stuttering with a silent groan. “Maybe you’ll be as good at hiding behind a mask as you are at keeping your mouth shut. Imagine if Spock heard. What he would think if you roused him from his meditations. I betcha he could teach you a thing or two about control.”
