Everything about her was strangely addicting, and he found himself craving to witness more and more of her. Her alabaster skin, her chapped lips, and her white hair all looked disheveled once his ministrations had led to a slow and teasing release. And he enjoyed watched her delicate features scrunch up in a mixture of pain and pleasure, her normally cool composure dropped for the sweet weakness of surrender. The sounds that reluctantly moaned from the depths of her sensual vocal chords, escaping newly bruised lips that were swollen from harsh but gentle nips and bites and constant suckling that tasted like copper and cherry lip-balm, were lyrical and crescendoed the harder he went down on her, like the rain that pounded on the window. It was their only reminder that there was an outside world beyond the blue walls and white sheets that tangled them up in their own cocoon of earthly pleasures.

She wanted more. He could tell by the way she tried to give voice to her requests but only managed to murmur half-words and hums of squeamish delight when he dug farther into her. Again, and again, and again as she held onto him like a lifeline, and again and again as she wavered on the brink of shuddering release. But he stopped, leaning in to whisper in her ear. She whined quietly, her mouth still not functioning properly enough to beg for him to continue. He whispered in her ear, using the exact pitch and tone he knew she couldn't resist. He told her to beg. She whined some more. He could only smile, amused as her eyes gazed pleadingly up into his, her hands loosening their grip on his back, short crescent marks from her nails left behind from the pressure.

He caressed her face, his forehead against hers, watching as her lungs greedily took in as much air as possibly, trying to breathe properly. Her usual shy blush blossomed over her high cheekbones, but this time it was out of embarrassment. A moment later, she apologized for not being able to keep up. He shook his head, running his hand down her face, over her smooth curves to rest on her hip. He told her she was amazing. Her blush deepened and he smiled fondly at her. Finally, when her chest stopped heaving, he started again. Slower this time. More loving.

He thought more highly of her than anyone else. His dominating nature took a backseat as his need to appreciate her properly took the lead. He didn't want his selfishness to end it all so soon.

His hands roamed over her breasts, eyes witnessing the nipples perk up when he passed over them. He took one into his mouth, flicking the hardened nub with his tongue this time. She giggled at the wet touch, moaning when his teeth gave it the same treatment as her lips earlier. He tweaked her other breast with his fingers, kneading it and marveling at how soft she was. He switched to the other breast, his hot breath teasing the skin before he closed his mouth over it. When he came up, ready to move on to the next part she offered him, he found her hand forcing his head back down, her hips grinding against his. He smirked against her momentarily before continuing, deciding that it was her decision to continue when she wanted to, not his.

She told him not to rush. He complied.

He could feel the heat radiating from her core, but she held him back, catching his wrist when he trailed a hand southbound in effort to hear her squeal. Her hand over his, she rested it on her cheek instead. Finally, her hand let his head go, and he moved up to her lips, hovering there for a moment as he noticed a kind of lust he'd never seen in a girl's eyes before. It didn't say 'I want you,' he suddenly recognized. It said 'I need you.'

It furthered his own need to make her scream.

He stalled near her already wet opening for the second time that night, his length barely brushing against it as he waited for her to give him the green light. Finally, she nodded, and he plunged in. The strained half-moan turned him on, as did the orchestra of other sounds that his slow rhythm drew from her. She hummed and moaned and gasped and the only reason he was stopping himself from kissing her was because he didn't want her to stop.

He picked up his pace, hearing her moans do the same. Faster and faster he went until all she could manage were frantic breaths and strained moans. He suckled on her neck, pinched her nipples, and rubbed her clit just to see what would happen. Her blue eyes fogged over with pure lust and pleasure and she grew louder and louder with each action and thrust.

She murmured under her breath to keep going, to touch her there again, to never let go.

He, again, complied.

Soon they were both spent. The room echoed their act, with the smell of hot sex and sweat, with clothes strewn over the floor in messy heaps. But they didn't notice. Instead, despite it being five in the morning and having work in only a few hours, he found himself touching his forehead to hers, listening to the rain, and enjoying the sound and feel of her breath on his neck.

What once seemed like such a hard thing to say now became the easiest thing in the world.

"I love you."