Or at least, his actions would elude to that string of expletives featuring heavily in his vehement train of thought as he pulled away in frustrated, heated gruffness. With a preciseness only afforded by the all-consuming urgency that sets in just before the very first time his hands found the closure of her slacks and made short work of the fastening. It pained him but he was quick as he pulled away from the perfect way she felt against his chest to slide her pants down the curves of her mindbendingly beautiful legs, fussing by her ankles to free one of them from these hateful, horrible, pants.
Next time this would be easier, but there was no time to lament a silly thing like that when her thigh cradled in the palm of his hand, warm and soft and he was guiding it to settle on his hip as he pushed his own trousers down enough to free himself, his cock aching against the open air, throbbing as his head swam with need.
"Fleur," her name on his lips might have been little more than a whisper but it practically simmered with all the want and devotion growing within him every day he got to see her face. Pushing her panties to the side, Bill's thumb ran along her slit, his body singing with need as a soft but ravenous growl rumbled in his throat. His lips found hers before he managed to quiet himself kissing her as the pad of his finger teased over her clit, dead and brought back to life in the span of a heartbeat by how warm, and wet, and real she was. How his she was. "Yours," his hips tipped towards her as he said it, purred against her lips, and his hand left that bundle of nerves between her thighs just long enough to guide himself to press at her entrance before returning to its delicately persistent work. "Fleur," for all the hunger he had kissed her with it drained away into ragged awe and he had no choice but to say her name, lingering there for a second as he let the entire galaxy hang by a thread before rocking forward slowly and sinking into her.
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Or at least, his actions would elude to that string of expletives featuring heavily in his vehement train of thought as he pulled away in frustrated, heated gruffness. With a preciseness only afforded by the all-consuming urgency that sets in just before the very first time his hands found the closure of her slacks and made short work of the fastening. It pained him but he was quick as he pulled away from the perfect way she felt against his chest to slide her pants down the curves of her mindbendingly beautiful legs, fussing by her ankles to free one of them from these hateful, horrible, pants.
Next time this would be easier, but there was no time to lament a silly thing like that when her thigh cradled in the palm of his hand, warm and soft and he was guiding it to settle on his hip as he pushed his own trousers down enough to free himself, his cock aching against the open air, throbbing as his head swam with need.
"Fleur," her name on his lips might have been little more than a whisper but it practically simmered with all the want and devotion growing within him every day he got to see her face. Pushing her panties to the side, Bill's thumb ran along her slit, his body singing with need as a soft but ravenous growl rumbled in his throat. His lips found hers before he managed to quiet himself kissing her as the pad of his finger teased over her clit, dead and brought back to life in the span of a heartbeat by how warm, and wet, and real she was. How his she was. "Yours," his hips tipped towards her as he said it, purred against her lips, and his hand left that bundle of nerves between her thighs just long enough to guide himself to press at her entrance before returning to its delicately persistent work. "Fleur," for all the hunger he had kissed her with it drained away into ragged awe and he had no choice but to say her name, lingering there for a second as he let the entire galaxy hang by a thread before rocking forward slowly and sinking into her.