[He can't let himself verbally admit that she's right. He's not going to last much longer, the fog in his mind growing thicker and thicker as she takes advantage of her own voice to lure him into her trap, using her ass to clamp down on him to make sure he can't escape. Frustrated little blips of noise come from him, trying to keep himself from outright letting her name spill out of his mouth from the friction of her butt against his arousal. He can even tell she's turned the magic around that was meant to keep her wanting into her own weapon- maybe she's too fast of a learner, now capable of using his own tricks against him.
And to make matters worse, the fabric of her kimono flops over her shoulders onto him, the indicator that her breasts are free for his eyes to ogle, and he can't help himself under all the stimulation she's giving him. Tartaglia cranes his neck over to get a good look at them, full and perky, just the way he loves them. Instinctively, his hand comes back up to fondle them, his breath catching in his throat for a moment as her ample breasts temporarily fulfill his burning desire to touch her. It's the only thing keeping him from ripping his own underwear off, and he tries to focus his mind on massaging her instead of himself.]
Now who's the one playing dirty? Don't say you didn't ask for it, though.
[It's a battle of wills, and now it's going to be who breaks first. With a flick of his finger, the water ring that teases her entrance suddenly disappears, and he tears his hand away from her breast to do something that he thinks will truly put them both to the test.
Tartaglia presses two fingers down between his own legs, his own mark rising up on his skin, and with one last sweep of his fingers he opens the connection between himself and Yoimiya. The connection opens the flood gates of both their emotions to flow into each other, a wave of lust and need crashing into him without warning and threatening to drown him in a sea of greed. It's overwhelming, feeling as if the oxygen in the room has just been sucked out and he's left breathless, his entire body shaking with desire. He can't even taunt her, fighting with himself to stay in control, but it's proving far more difficult than he'd imagined.
His body seems to react on its own without his permission, his hand frantically pulling down his own undergarments. Maybe this wasn't as great of an idea as he thought it was going to be.]
no subject
And to make matters worse, the fabric of her kimono flops over her shoulders onto him, the indicator that her breasts are free for his eyes to ogle, and he can't help himself under all the stimulation she's giving him. Tartaglia cranes his neck over to get a good look at them, full and perky, just the way he loves them. Instinctively, his hand comes back up to fondle them, his breath catching in his throat for a moment as her ample breasts temporarily fulfill his burning desire to touch her. It's the only thing keeping him from ripping his own underwear off, and he tries to focus his mind on massaging her instead of himself.]
Now who's the one playing dirty? Don't say you didn't ask for it, though.
[It's a battle of wills, and now it's going to be who breaks first. With a flick of his finger, the water ring that teases her entrance suddenly disappears, and he tears his hand away from her breast to do something that he thinks will truly put them both to the test.
Tartaglia presses two fingers down between his own legs, his own mark rising up on his skin, and with one last sweep of his fingers he opens the connection between himself and Yoimiya. The connection opens the flood gates of both their emotions to flow into each other, a wave of lust and need crashing into him without warning and threatening to drown him in a sea of greed. It's overwhelming, feeling as if the oxygen in the room has just been sucked out and he's left breathless, his entire body shaking with desire. He can't even taunt her, fighting with himself to stay in control, but it's proving far more difficult than he'd imagined.
His body seems to react on its own without his permission, his hand frantically pulling down his own undergarments. Maybe this wasn't as great of an idea as he thought it was going to be.]