(psl) so now my dear it's just a matter of time

[indolentaxe]

because you'll soon become my partner in crime, ah, ah
let's go

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[indolentaxe]

[Were it anyone but him, Hilda might feel embarrassed at how she's reacting. Balthus is right; they've barely started, and already she's putty in his hands from how perfectly he fills her. But she's fully aware that the reverse is also true, and there's no small amount of anticipation wound up in all of this as well. They're at the precipice of something sacred and perfect, and from here there's nowhere to go but down.

Goddess, she's excited for the rush of plummeting with him.

He begins to thrust, his hold on her so tight that it's wonderfully painful, and Hilda groans in response.]

Don't hold anything back. Please.

[She wants to feel this tomorrow as a token to remember him by until they're able to see each other again, which is a sentiment that's both heartfelt and deeply, deeply horny.]

[grappleking]

[Some part of him manages to keep the fact that she’s significantly smaller than him in mind as he finds his rhythm; it’s slow and steady to begin with as he works her open, his grip on her tight enough that his fingers will likely leave bruises behind despite his previous efforts to take care, and his pace steadily begins to grow faster as she makes her desires known, a request that sparks something hot and needy in him and pulls a low growl from his throat as he starts to roughly kiss his way down the perfect curve of her soft, sweet-smelling neck.]

You sure about that?

[There’s a rough edge to his voice, proof enough that he’s only barely restraining himself, but the sharp curve of his grin that can be glimpsed between kisses and the extra emphatic thrust of his hips that follows betray the fact that he is absolutely teasing, that he has no plans of holding himself back regardless.]

You’re gonna feel it in the morning–

[He doesn’t think either one of them will be the least bit sorry about it, though. After how long they’ve waited, they both deserve to wake up sore and aching from riding each other until there’s not a shred left of either one of them. They’ll be saying goodbye for awhile, after all– they have to make tonight count.]

You won’t be able to walk once I’m through with you.

[Tomorrow’s Balthus will also quite possibly find himself to be incredibly cringe, but in the moment, it’s worth it.]