Kid's hand roams your ass, mesmerized by the way it jiggled with each of his thrusts. Perfect, plump, and round. He knew it would be, but seeing it for himself...He digs his fingers in, feeling the supple flesh and squeezing as he adopted a quicker, rougher pace.
Your cries of 'more' and 'yes' drift past him, loud enough that even the furthest members of the crew could hear them. But he wanted them louder. He wanted you shrieking.
He's wanted this for so long, wanted to feel the way you fit him. Wanted to hear the way you spoke his name wrapped in pleasure. Everything of you, he wanted. Needed. Kid needed you. All of you.
Once he'd started he simply couldn't stop. Each entrance was wet, easy, and hot. Somehow, he'd managed to hold out this long, enjoying your body as long as he could. But that luck wouldn't last, with the way you clawed your nails into the comforter of the bed, keening moans rising as he switched angles, sliding his fingers up higher to pull back on your hips for extra impact.
Kid opened his eyes with a curse, guttural and ugly. His hand yanks back the covers, putting his tented boxers on display. The cold air of the room makes him throb painfully. Another long, drawn out swear escapes his lips, and he drops his head back down to the pillow.
He knows from experience that no amount of time spent trying to push himself over that edge with his own hand was going to work. He'd experienced enough of these wet dreams to know that his measly hand was no comparison to your fantasized cunt.
If only he'd stayed sleeping for a few more seconds, perhaps he would have reached orgasm, but it always seemed to fall short. He'd be irritated all day, surely, and whether he liked it or not, he wouldn't be able to look at you without getting angry at himself. Best to avoid you today.
Or, if he was smart, he'd finally just admit to you how he felt, and maybe he could make those dreams something tangible.
ns 15.158.61.51da2
