Tarrok leaned back into the couch, letting the cushion take their full weight now. He didn't separate his lips from hers, and he was pretty damn sure he couldn't at this point. They felt stuck to another, on some level. Her chin just touching against his, her skin against his. And through it, the beat of one heart answering the other.<br/><br/>Tarrok held her tight, one hand crossed across her hip now matched by one across her chest. His hand sank into the pillow soft flesh, letting it spill through his fingers. His pace became longer, more involved as he carried through on his thrusts. He would bring himself back almost to leaving before rolling back in, pressing home eagerly. Letting her ride on this apex, and then down. If what he was doing was comparable to waves before, this was like being adrift on the ocean. Animated, passionate and full of motion.<br/><br/>But not violent.<br/><br/>Tarrok fully intended to pamper her, from start to finish. Even if he could not speak the words, perhaps, his intent would be obvious.