"You feel so good," he murmured, pace slowly picking up as her own passion grew. He couldn't tell she was holding back, but he'd been in enough fights to pick up on little cues - the speed of her pulse, the shallowness of her breath, the tension in her muscles - to know she as feeling more, wanting more, and he did his best to oblige.

"I wish I could... touch you all over... explore every inch... to learn what... feels best..." he can tell she feels good, but he knows how little he knows, other than rumor and salacious gossip.

As his body moves faster, rocks deeper, one hand settles firmly on her chest, thumb flicking back and froth across the nipple with each stroke; the other hand moving down to her hip, fingers curling and anchoring against the curve of her backside, slowly learning what angle has the best leverage, what draws the best reaction from her.