Tarrok felt a current run off his skin as she took hold of him, hanging on for all that she could. This was what real desire was, that unbreakable longing. A wanting that transcended anything mundane, above the world men built for themselves. Her need for him was absolute and burning, felt in every touch of her fingers and every soft moan.<br/><br/>How had he ever earned a trust as deep as this? Why did one, seemingly random act of kindness engender so much affection? Tarrok wasn't a spiritual man, but he believed in karma. Universe be damned, if you hurt enough people in your life then someone would get the idea to hurt you back. All it took was one person with enough anger and a lucky break.<br/><br/>What had he ever done to deserve her falling into his life?<br/><br/>Heat and motion rippled through her entire body, and Tarrok could feel it all. This close, this connected, it was almost like sharing a nerve interface between them. It was impossible to be totally sure, but she felt at least halfway to climax. Then again, maybe it was just him. Heat and pressure was building in his gut, his length building in warmth. His was on the horizon, albeit far enough to delay. He knew how to keep going strong, and make the most of his endurance.<br/><br/>Most of all, though, he couldn't help but want more of her lips. The hand holding her chest began to move, sliding up palm down just as before. Her neck felt just so delicate, so alive and infinitely all the more precious for it. Slowly, deliberately, he let his fingers close in a soft hold about her. Just the least pressure possible, a thumb and two fingers, letting the other two simply lay upon her skin. Just enough to hold her as close to him as she was holding him to her. Depriving her of breath was fine metaphorically, but not so much literally.<br/><br/>His pace began to change its rhythm. First he drew it out with long, almost torturously slow motions as compared to before. Slowly pushing inside and then letting him linger fully sheathed in her. Finally he would, just as slowly, roll his hips back and begin the process all over. Then he tried more rapid, quicker thrusts. So fast their skin was practically slapping together. Not nearly as even a pace as before, it was broken and unpredictable.<br/><br/>Tarrok alternated between the different paces. His rolling, tumultuous motions for the longer norm. Slower, lingering thrusts to keep just shy of tipping over the edge. Shorter, unpredictable pumping for drawing out all those sweet soft sounds. If he was smart, he could keep her going like this for a long time. Aiko deserved every minute he could give her, and more.<br/><br/>I just wish I could say it, he thought.