He matches the rock of her hips in the way he continues to tease her with his fingers, using the heel of his hand occasionally to add to the pressure of her circles. Vergil's other hand and tail remain firm at her back in keeping her contained within his lap while still able to chase after her pleasure as she wills it. He does not need the fraying of thought to her words, the loss of an image to accompany them to know just how close she is to her peak. Vergil recognizes it in her movements, in the way her body is growing tenser. Even the way she draws breath, the sounds that slip from her.
He does not think much of what she says about not wanting it to end. At the very least, Vergil does not believe it more than a want of the fantasy to last. Even if it comes coupled with such relief and release, the end of a fantasy is akin to that of waking from a pleasant dream. It leaves behind a good, warm feeling, but the specifics of it are far too quick to fade from one's mind. Mizu is drifting further away from fantasy as she loses herself to the sensations she's feeling here and now. He doesn't doubt that may be yet true should she ever use this moment, this fantasy later in his absence. How much harder might it be for her to hold onto his words, his face, the feeling of his hands upon her when floods of pleasure threaten to drown her?
"Have me then," he says, slipping a finger inside her finally. Vergil turns his head to repeat the words in her ear, little more than a breath as he presses another finger inside her. "It's not the end. I'm yours, Mizu. Whenever you want me, I'm always yours."
The fantasy may take a moment to pause upon her climax as she loses total sense of herself and perhaps even connection with her own body beyond the waves of pleasure crashing into her again and again. But she can still find him once more as she comes down from the high. She may be more cognizant that she's in her own bed alone, tangled in sheets rather than with him directly. But he will still be there. His scent, his clothes, the memory and vision of him in her mind's eye. Even that warm, languid feeling that follows, Mizu can find him close to her still. Vergil hooks his fingers inside her to reach and attend to that sweet spot within.
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He does not think much of what she says about not wanting it to end. At the very least, Vergil does not believe it more than a want of the fantasy to last. Even if it comes coupled with such relief and release, the end of a fantasy is akin to that of waking from a pleasant dream. It leaves behind a good, warm feeling, but the specifics of it are far too quick to fade from one's mind. Mizu is drifting further away from fantasy as she loses herself to the sensations she's feeling here and now. He doesn't doubt that may be yet true should she ever use this moment, this fantasy later in his absence. How much harder might it be for her to hold onto his words, his face, the feeling of his hands upon her when floods of pleasure threaten to drown her?
"Have me then," he says, slipping a finger inside her finally. Vergil turns his head to repeat the words in her ear, little more than a breath as he presses another finger inside her. "It's not the end. I'm yours, Mizu. Whenever you want me, I'm always yours."
The fantasy may take a moment to pause upon her climax as she loses total sense of herself and perhaps even connection with her own body beyond the waves of pleasure crashing into her again and again. But she can still find him once more as she comes down from the high. She may be more cognizant that she's in her own bed alone, tangled in sheets rather than with him directly. But he will still be there. His scent, his clothes, the memory and vision of him in her mind's eye. Even that warm, languid feeling that follows, Mizu can find him close to her still. Vergil hooks his fingers inside her to reach and attend to that sweet spot within.
"Come for me."