Merlinjesusjosephallahbuddhazeus hephaestus marymotherofGOD her head was about to explode.
Had she known she had all sorts of crazy carnal urges? Because the whole enjoying the cuffed-wrist and being pushed up against things-thing was startling and very exciting, and she was perhaps thinking of the ways she might get him to do it some more. And concentrating, concentrating on restraining herself from moaning too loudly from those talented hands because they were hot and stroked and touched and tormented in just the right ways.
She wasn't very successful, so her solution was of course to kiss him harder, unaware of what her hands or legs or anything else were doing, simply what he was doing to her.
When her lungs were on fire for want of air, she tore herself away, heedless of her head snapping against the hard surface behind her. She felt overpowered, completely. Having vastly underestimated what it would be like to go this far, she was unprepared for the neediness and scorching heat that wasn't unfamiliar, but terrifyingly heightened. The need to assuage it was overwhelming, such that she'd have done anything in that moment.
"Ludo, please," she panted, "I need—" Unable to verbalize it, the hand twined behind his neck pushed his face back down towards her, the other streaking down to the waistband of his trousers, to stroke first the outer edge of material, then trying to snake between the hot skin and material restraining him.
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