[There's a small huff in-between quick breaths at the call for a harder movement, and the contrary part of Emet-Selch is tempted to slow, to gentle every motion instead. But he overrides the impulse, aware that he'd accomplish little more than frustrating himself in turn.
Leaning low over her, each thrust becomes rougher, more forceful, pushing Irhya back into the bed with every motion. It's still deliberate, conscious; controlled even as restraint is shed. Controlled in a technical sense, anyway, as he knows he'd find it quite hard to stop.
Especially with the sharp points in his back, her legs around him; his pulse is loud in his ears, as he buries his face against Irhya's neck, breath a near pant against her skin. Though soft, quiet, the sounds he makes are more regular, almost needy, as he moves faster still.]
no subject
Leaning low over her, each thrust becomes rougher, more forceful, pushing Irhya back into the bed with every motion. It's still deliberate, conscious; controlled even as restraint is shed. Controlled in a technical sense, anyway, as he knows he'd find it quite hard to stop.
Especially with the sharp points in his back, her legs around him; his pulse is loud in his ears, as he buries his face against Irhya's neck, breath a near pant against her skin. Though soft, quiet, the sounds he makes are more regular, almost needy, as he moves faster still.]