#ow sigma

Of course he isn't unaware of the differences in your sizes... how could he be? His body is one of extraordinary power and large mass, it envelops you completely. The difference is blunt, something he absorbs and files away with a quiet detachment. At least... that was his intention at first. But observation for him is never passive, it's an act of understanding and of unravelling every little detail. And he quickly begins to notice things like the way you have to tilt your head back, making that satisfying arch in your neck just to meet his view. He finds it compelling, hypnotic even. He'll purposefully stand closer than necessary just to see it, that difference he finds so oddly satisfying.

It's only natural that a man like him when presented with a new fascination, is compelled and even intrusive in his study, he needs to map the landscape of you completely. His hands, when he eventually gives in and allows them to touch, don't just skim the surface, they're insatiable in their exploration. He has them span your waist, his long fingers practically trembling in anticipation as they brush over your hips. He's astounded by the warmth of your skin, aroused by the soft squish of your flesh beneath his touch, and he doesn't shy in telling you it all, and just how enchanting he finds you.

He'll run the broad flat pressure of a palm down the slope of your back. He'll trace the skin of your collarbones with his fingers, fascinated by the structure that lies just beneath your skin, and when he kisses you, he has to stoop. The sheer action of it in the way he must contort himself, it's invigorating.

When he finally has you beneath him, his body crushing your smaller frame is an exquisite kind of pressure. His mind settled on images of his hips nestled between your thighs, spread and strained wide to accommodate him. He's consumed by the thought of it, the maddening duality of that stretch, the potential for it to border on discomfort only for that sudden, breathtaking shift into pleasure. How astounding you are.

He's often so preoccupied by his mental rambling that he almost misses how much delight he derives from simply holding your face in his hands. The way your jaw fits so perfectly into his palm, your cheek resting against him, such a simple act of containment brings such a profound, grounding peace. Truly his world in the palm of his hand. Yet that grounding can so easily be lifted by glancing at your lips. That inner wet heat and all the ways he could breach it.