He always loves hearing her say his name, but this is something else entirely, and when she adds "my" too it, he lets out a sound of utter adoration. Maybe he should feel self-conscious about just how gone he is for her, but it's hard to feel anything but safe and wanted with the way she's cradling his face and whimpering gently in pleasure.
He can feel her shifting, trying to adjust to this new sensation, and when her legs come up around him, it's so easy to shift into her hold, one hand nestling into her hair, the other arm wrapping under her. It's a few more gentle rocks of his hips before he's in her tip to hilt, and he wants to just sit in this moment of being as close as they possibly can. But he starts to arch his wanting hips, rocking out and back in, gasping between kisses, and the desire to move, to be moved with, to make them both feel the sweetness of release is stronger than the desire to bask.
Aerith starts to speak, and he only hears the first few words and begins to chuckle. "I know--" he starts, thinking she's going to tell him she's never done this before, but then she gets the rest out. For a tiny moment he freezes, entirely speechless.
Then he kisses her hard, thrusting all the way back into her, crushing her to him. It's something he's been so careful not to let himself think, but her saying it is like a gate opening, all that he was still holding back flooding out. "Aerith," he murmurs, aware there's moisture on his cheeks again, nuzzling his nose against her. "I love you. I didn't -- I didn't know what I was going to do if I'd lost you." And he kisses her again, mouth open wide, ravenous, intimate, his body moving just as hungrily, just as reverently. Every place they touch is on fire, every inch of her utterly perfect, and he knows there isn't anything he wouldn't do for this woman.
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He can feel her shifting, trying to adjust to this new sensation, and when her legs come up around him, it's so easy to shift into her hold, one hand nestling into her hair, the other arm wrapping under her. It's a few more gentle rocks of his hips before he's in her tip to hilt, and he wants to just sit in this moment of being as close as they possibly can. But he starts to arch his wanting hips, rocking out and back in, gasping between kisses, and the desire to move, to be moved with, to make them both feel the sweetness of release is stronger than the desire to bask.
Aerith starts to speak, and he only hears the first few words and begins to chuckle. "I know--" he starts, thinking she's going to tell him she's never done this before, but then she gets the rest out. For a tiny moment he freezes, entirely speechless.
Then he kisses her hard, thrusting all the way back into her, crushing her to him. It's something he's been so careful not to let himself think, but her saying it is like a gate opening, all that he was still holding back flooding out. "Aerith," he murmurs, aware there's moisture on his cheeks again, nuzzling his nose against her. "I love you. I didn't -- I didn't know what I was going to do if I'd lost you." And he kisses her again, mouth open wide, ravenous, intimate, his body moving just as hungrily, just as reverently. Every place they touch is on fire, every inch of her utterly perfect, and he knows there isn't anything he wouldn't do for this woman.