Spencer obviously gets a little drunk everytime you let him into your bed, we've all known this. He gets overwhelmed with lust, and devotes his entire being to giving you pleasure.
But, being a little pussydrunk doesn't stop him from overflowing with affection, and he can't help himself from being all cutesy even while you're writhing against his light-green duvet.
Has your thighs slung over his shoulders, lower half of his face shining with slick. You can't help but whine at the sight of him, hips trying to buck under the weight of his right forearm slung over your stomach. He can't hold back, ready to dive back in, but not before cooing up at you sweetly, left hand snaking up the bed to intertwine your fingers with his.
Or you're straddling him, hips swivelling on autopilot as you're submerged in the rapture zapping up your spine. He's mesmerised by the sight, one hand smoothing up your side as the other trails up to smooth your hair back, cupping your face tenderly. Soft encouragements and declarations of devotion tumble from his lips, as if the two of you aren't on the brink of collapse.
Or you're being crowded into the sheets, your calves resting over his shoulders as he presses into you meanly. Your brain can't handle it, soft noises escaping your lips as your eyes flutter shut without your permission. That just won't do, he can't go without the eye contact he needs to make him feel even closer to you than he already is. Without moving his eyes from you, he turns his head, peppering soft kisses to the ankle hooked on his left shoulder, as he pleads for you to open your eyes in a low voice.
"Please, angel, just want to see your eyes. Love your eyes, love how you look at me, won't you look at me, honey?"
