[ She doesn't flinch at the different touch, though he waits out her reaction just to be sure she's doing alright. Because sometimes she just went silent and slowly locked up, almost paralyzed by bad memories–he knows exactly how it feels. And how it can creep up, that slow sinking dread. Like ink dropped into water, spreading and muddying.
Instead, he gets a low groan from her as she tilts her head back, pressing herself into the mattress. Well then, that's a good sign, isn't it? She might as well have said "keep going". So he does, repeating the same motion and carefully petting one hand along the outside of her thigh. There's one more lighter touch and then he's lapping at her more fully, tongue flat against her folds. He echoes her groan from earlier, face feeling hot from both nervousness and arousal.
And maybe a little bit from victory, however small. ]
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Instead, he gets a low groan from her as she tilts her head back, pressing herself into the mattress. Well then, that's a good sign, isn't it? She might as well have said "keep going". So he does, repeating the same motion and carefully petting one hand along the outside of her thigh. There's one more lighter touch and then he's lapping at her more fully, tongue flat against her folds. He echoes her groan from earlier, face feeling hot from both nervousness and arousal.
And maybe a little bit from victory, however small. ]