[He gasps as her nails dig in, hips snapping forward reflexively. He could heal the marks she's leaving, if he had to, but he's not so sure that he will. It might be nice, he finds himself thinking, to wear them like the lipstick marks on his neck, or his collar-
The desperation in her tone urges him on, makes him nibble at the tender skin just below her ear too, and then again further down than that. And, without real conscious direction on his part, he leans forward, letting his body bear hers toward the table.
His lips linger on the spot where he can feel her pulse pounding through her skin, kissing almost sweetly before his teeth sink in, nipping brief but sharp, and his tongue soothes over the fresh mark.]
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The desperation in her tone urges him on, makes him nibble at the tender skin just below her ear too, and then again further down than that. And, without real conscious direction on his part, he leans forward, letting his body bear hers toward the table.
His lips linger on the spot where he can feel her pulse pounding through her skin, kissing almost sweetly before his teeth sink in, nipping brief but sharp, and his tongue soothes over the fresh mark.]