[Each movement brings another needy whine, another frantic scrabble of fingers. One hand slides up into Ronan's hair, gripping fiercely, as he presses down into each thrust.
He knows this isn't easy for either of them. They're poorly matched, physically speaking, and part of his brain registers the discomfort and the ache he knows he'll feel later. But at the same time, nothing has ever felt more perfect, more wanted. They're used to pressing their minds and their spirits together, but this is the closest their bodies have ever felt. As much as he wants to feel that warm hitch of climax inside of him, he doesn't want any of this to end.
I love you, I love you, he whispers in his mind, more a feeling than a thought, with each laborious rock of his hips.]
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He knows this isn't easy for either of them. They're poorly matched, physically speaking, and part of his brain registers the discomfort and the ache he knows he'll feel later. But at the same time, nothing has ever felt more perfect, more wanted. They're used to pressing their minds and their spirits together, but this is the closest their bodies have ever felt. As much as he wants to feel that warm hitch of climax inside of him, he doesn't want any of this to end.
I love you, I love you, he whispers in his mind, more a feeling than a thought, with each laborious rock of his hips.]