( well, there are two options. more downtime to the point of they gotta wait for his dick to check back in, use something else to finish the job. or they can make use of what little he's got left. it's a hard headed determination that is leading the charge, here, because as good as it feels there's a prickle of discomfort, like when he eats that fourth piece of pizza when he really knows he shouldn't. too much of a good thing is supposed to be bad but there's guilty pleasure in it, too. his body might want to check out now that he's hit his own finish line, his brain just refuses to.
they've got a timeline, here. between what is left of being hard quickly turns into pushing rope. so his encore is distinctly more desperate than before, and it isn't like he'd been lacking on that front the first round. it's just she was so close. used to be they were pretty in sync, with these things. he could hold back just long enough, or they'd work her up first so getting her to crash through a finish was just a bit of fingers or maybe the back of his palm pressed hard against her clit. he knows the sounds she's making, the wild, uncomfortable way she's moving, the flush crawling up her neck and the pinpoint of her pupils, Steve knows she's close. he's not just going to call it quits before they get there, even if it isn't quite how he wanted their second first to go.
the problem before was expecting perfection, that they could just jump back into the thick of it without putting the time in. like running a marathon right after they got cleared to ditch the crutches. throwing that out the window, focusing on making the most of what they've got — maybe it's not perfect, maybe Foreigner isn't providing a soft crooning ambiance, maybe it isn't some first magical moment. to be fair their first time wasn't perfect either, and that was before a girl got munched in his pool. perfect is more or less impossible. making the best of being with Nancy again, well... that he can do. hell, it's pretty easy to do, when she still melts under his touch. still knows just how she likes to jut back and slide against him, knows how to hold herself in that spot that makes her body sing. it's sloppy and fraught and desperate and delightful. and in the end, it's enough. he feels it before it hits, the way the inner muscles of her thighs go tight and then shiver-shudder clench as she falls to pieces under him and around him all at once. )
Yes, just... just like that, Nancy. God you're so fucking — ( sexy? beautiful? everything he could imagine and more? yes. whatever he meant to articulate, he can't, especially as the exhaustion of completion hits. the movement can stop and he can just get lost in the afterglow, which is pretty afterglow-y, right now. used to be, Steve worried more, about laying on top of her. if anything it makes more sense to worry about it now than it did then, because he was a lot more tooth-picky in high school. that swimmer diet kicked his ass until he didn't have to bother anymore. there's a great deal more of him to bear down on her, now, it's just he couldn't care less. Nancy will whine if her legs start to fall asleep. she's a lot less fragile than she looks, and fragile she does look, sort of like one of those porcelain dolls his mom keeps in her closet only with a much more modern haircut. (some post nut thoughts are best to keep to oneself.) he can wind her close and be her heavy boy blanket at least long enough for their brains to turn back on again.
his mouth hurts from all the kissing. it's not a bad kind of sting. he still uses his teeth to catch a spot under her jaw close to her neck, that spot that always smells most like Nancy after they fuck. for important, not at all caveman reasons, he really likes that spot. his brain doesn't really have the capacity for coherent thought just yet, it just wants to double down in nancynancynancy. that spot always helps with that. having his mouth busy is a good way to keep the post sex i love you to himself. maybe it is obvious, at this point. he feels like the dumb dopey expression he wears when he looks at her sort of gives it away. still, holding onto that a little longer since they've technically only been dating again a few months? feels like a good call. )
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they've got a timeline, here. between what is left of being hard quickly turns into pushing rope. so his encore is distinctly more desperate than before, and it isn't like he'd been lacking on that front the first round. it's just she was so close. used to be they were pretty in sync, with these things. he could hold back just long enough, or they'd work her up first so getting her to crash through a finish was just a bit of fingers or maybe the back of his palm pressed hard against her clit. he knows the sounds she's making, the wild, uncomfortable way she's moving, the flush crawling up her neck and the pinpoint of her pupils, Steve knows she's close. he's not just going to call it quits before they get there, even if it isn't quite how he wanted their second first to go.
the problem before was expecting perfection, that they could just jump back into the thick of it without putting the time in. like running a marathon right after they got cleared to ditch the crutches. throwing that out the window, focusing on making the most of what they've got — maybe it's not perfect, maybe Foreigner isn't providing a soft crooning ambiance, maybe it isn't some first magical moment. to be fair their first time wasn't perfect either, and that was before a girl got munched in his pool. perfect is more or less impossible. making the best of being with Nancy again, well... that he can do. hell, it's pretty easy to do, when she still melts under his touch. still knows just how she likes to jut back and slide against him, knows how to hold herself in that spot that makes her body sing. it's sloppy and fraught and desperate and delightful. and in the end, it's enough. he feels it before it hits, the way the inner muscles of her thighs go tight and then shiver-shudder clench as she falls to pieces under him and around him all at once. )
Yes, just... just like that, Nancy. God you're so fucking — ( sexy? beautiful? everything he could imagine and more? yes. whatever he meant to articulate, he can't, especially as the exhaustion of completion hits. the movement can stop and he can just get lost in the afterglow, which is pretty afterglow-y, right now. used to be, Steve worried more, about laying on top of her. if anything it makes more sense to worry about it now than it did then, because he was a lot more tooth-picky in high school. that swimmer diet kicked his ass until he didn't have to bother anymore. there's a great deal more of him to bear down on her, now, it's just he couldn't care less. Nancy will whine if her legs start to fall asleep. she's a lot less fragile than she looks, and fragile she does look, sort of like one of those porcelain dolls his mom keeps in her closet only with a much more modern haircut. (some post nut thoughts are best to keep to oneself.) he can wind her close and be her heavy boy blanket at least long enough for their brains to turn back on again.
his mouth hurts from all the kissing. it's not a bad kind of sting. he still uses his teeth to catch a spot under her jaw close to her neck, that spot that always smells most like Nancy after they fuck. for important, not at all caveman reasons, he really likes that spot. his brain doesn't really have the capacity for coherent thought just yet, it just wants to double down in nancynancynancy. that spot always helps with that. having his mouth busy is a good way to keep the post sex i love you to himself. maybe it is obvious, at this point. he feels like the dumb dopey expression he wears when he looks at her sort of gives it away. still, holding onto that a little longer since they've technically only been dating again a few months? feels like a good call. )