The full, covering, comprehensive weight of a man above a woman in the grass — his forearms on either side of her head, his chest against her chest, his cock still inside her, the position changing from the riding arrangement to this one with the transition of a body that knew where it wanted to be and had moved there.
His face above hers.
She looked up at him.
At the violet eyes in the moonlight.
He kissed her.
Not gently. Not roughly. The specific, full, present kiss of a man who had decided to do it — his mouth on hers, the warm, deliberate pressure of it, his lips moving against hers with the unhurried, claiming thoroughness of someone who was doing something because he wanted to and had no questions about it.
She made a sound against his mouth.
Not a moan. The other kind — the small, involuntary, completely undefended sound of a woman being kissed who had not expected to be kissed and whose body had received it before her mind could form a response.
"Mnh~—"
