"Do you like being on top?"
"I love you, and so I think it's all fun and games." I reach between us, guiding the head of his stupidly large cock and placing it at the entrance of my body. One of those shitty old memories flashes through my head and I hesitate.
As if he can tell what I'm thinking, Straik holds his hand out to me.
I want to cry with how perfect he is. Leaning forward to keep my balance, I take his hand even as I sink down, just a fraction. The way his gaze goes unfocused, his lips parting…that's so fucking perfect I want to laugh with sheer joy. God, I love watching his face. I sink down a little more, though it's not easy going. He's big, and I'm tense, but gravity helps with the situation. I clench, sucking in a breath as he eases deeper inside me and the piercing rubs against the front wall, sending a boatload of sensation through me.
"Are you okay?" Straik squeezes my hand.
I nod, trying to take a deep breath and failing. "Piercing. Feels good."
"I got it for you." His voice is thick with pleasure. "Wanted to do everything for you."
I hold his hand tighter, wriggling to try and take a bit more of him. "How does it feel for you?"
"Like the finest Homeworld wine." When I sink down, his breath catches, his eyes fluttering. "Better than wine. Kef, there's nothing as good as your cunt. Nothing. It's got no comparison."
"My mouth?" I offer helpfully, bracing myself against the big hand I'm holding and rocking lower.
"Kef, yes, your mouth, your sweet, perfect mouth," he babbles, lost in the moment. He's not looking at me. He's caught in the grip of my body. As I watch him, his face contorts. "Kef," he bites out, his hips jerking. "Ruth—Ruth—"
"I'm here," I tell him. He's panicking, no doubt about to lose control again. "Breathe. I'm not going anywhere. We can take our time. Breathe."
Straik sucks in a few jerky breaths, his body twitching under mine. His skin is covered in a light sweat, his face tense as he tries to keep control. It doesn't look like fun, and my heart aches with sympathy. This is supposed to be a good time for both of us. I want to tell him that just being together makes me happy, that feeling him under me is enough for me. That watching him come apart gives me more than enough satisfaction (along with the toe-curling orgasm I had minutes ago). That he doesn't need to prove anything at all to me, but I also know him well enough that I know the best thing I can do right now is be quiet and let him work through it on his own.
When he takes a deeper breath, I think the worst has passed. "Better?"
He manages a nod and a tight smile that melts me. No sense in prolonging things, so I smile back and push down, trying to take as much of him into my body as I can. Straik sucks in a breath, tensing, and I lower the rest of the way onto him, seating myself fully.
I hold still, too, trying not to show how uncomfortable I am at the press of his spur. It's intrusive, angled at the perfect spot to push through the folds of my pussy and nudge against my clit. I remember hating this before, how it stabbed and stabbed, and I want nothing more than to avoid it, but I'm afraid of adjusting my body atop Straik's and making him, well, erupt.
As I remain still over him, the spur brushes ever so softly against my clit with every breath Straik takes. And…I don't hate it. In fact, as he closes his eyes and takes a few deep gulps of air, I hate it less and less. He twitches under me, and I gasp, because it makes his spur…intense.
The moment I make a sound, he freezes. His hand is tight in mine. "Are you all right? Do you need to stop?"
I shake my head, feeling frantic. "C-can I move? I need to move."
Straik groans. "Please. Yes."
I rock on top of him, moving up and down in a slow motion to ease into things. The moment the spur brushes against my clit again, I let out a whimper. I didn't realize it could be…good. I thought the ridges and the piercing were enough. They should be more than enough, but that unexpected spur is making me crazy. I press my hand down on his chest, leaning forward so I can rock on top of him better. My sweaty palm is still pressed to his, but when I push our joined hands to his chest, he lets me, and I concentrate on riding him.
I'm so sensitized that it doesn't take long for me to hit that needy edge again. His spur dips against my clit every time I bear down, and so I move atop him, harder and faster, chasing that need. I'm gasping every time we bump, the delicious friction between our bodies making my sheath clench tight.