[ In every way that Clara might want, Amos obliges - he knows what this entails for him - an orgasm, bone-deep satisfaction, a feeling inside his chest that is only ignited by these endorphins. It dies out quickly, but he knows it's what he can expect, and he knows he can make himself pull back from it just to get Clara where she needs to be, feeling what she needs to feel.
Amos raises his knees as he buries his face in Clara's neck, sure to leave some irritation where his beard has been - will the traces last on Clara or will they disappear, no blood to come to the surface? He isn't sure. It's an intriguing question. He forgets about it as he tips them over, lying Clara down on the bed, taking charge. One of his hands pulls one of her legs to rest around his hip as the other finds its way between their bodies, fingers pressing against her clit like his tongue did earlier, moving in rhythm with his hips. He looks at Clara, leaning down for a kiss, more forceful now, a little less control in it all. ]
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Amos raises his knees as he buries his face in Clara's neck, sure to leave some irritation where his beard has been - will the traces last on Clara or will they disappear, no blood to come to the surface? He isn't sure. It's an intriguing question. He forgets about it as he tips them over, lying Clara down on the bed, taking charge. One of his hands pulls one of her legs to rest around his hip as the other finds its way between their bodies, fingers pressing against her clit like his tongue did earlier, moving in rhythm with his hips. He looks at Clara, leaning down for a kiss, more forceful now, a little less control in it all. ]