Later, Felix will hope she doesn't think to ask why he wanted her to keep talking.

Now, he's just listening to the cadence of her voice, the way she moans his name and makes the consonants sound like caresses, and watching the way her light pulses in time with their thrusts. Feeling the soft warmth of her breasts against his chest, the tickle of her hair spilling onto his skin, the burn in his scalp that reminds him of her control every time he moves, the way her magical lines buzz and hum wherever they touch him, making his whole body feel so much more sensitive.

There comes a point when he feels like he's been on the cusp of orgasm for forever, wave after wave of intense pleasure crashing over him every time she arches to push him back into her tight heat, or speaks, or moans. His hips jerk with less rhythm and his body tenses like a bowstring. Every breath is a shallow gasp, every sound a wordless moan or heartfelt curse.