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Clare sits upon Raki, caressing his head gently like she would with a stray cat as she lets his penis slide within her.
In the inn's washroom, the overcast day infuses the space with a languid pallor.
The toilet seat could hardly withstand both their weight. It creaks whenever she inches down, so she's relying on her legs to support herself.
For Raki, she's far more than what he's secretly dreamed of her after all these years.
Enveloped in her nectary warmth.
It was initially painful when Clare tried pulling his foreskin down. The way he'd wince when she made each attempt to unfurl it back, as if she were getting him acclimated to overcoming a private barrier. She'd wanted to dance her mouth all over his exposed head, but she was only able to reveal just the tip of his glans. When she pressed her soft lips upon it, Raki let out a moan. Like knowing the intimate delicacy of flower petals. How her musky breath felt there, letting shivers ripple through his being.
"Look at me, Raki," she whispers, knowing she's indulging him with something he'd ordinarily experience in private. He opens his eyes, and meeting hers, he spots how it's like she's on the verge of crying, and yet.. only with a concern for him in this moment. Up close, her frontal body is a landscape of torrential scars, frightening to behold. Rough to his touch. But it doesn't matter. He kisses her upon her petite breasts - and she arches back, her hands pushing his face into her more with a carnal craving. Her awareness shifts to the way he's holding her by her hips, and like a reflex, she lunges her hands over so he could feel her there. The underside of her breasts.
Clare's breathing grows more steamy. She can't help crying out, in little spurts, which she brings Raki over for a kiss so her voice is muffled.
A kiss has never tasted so good.
In Koekelberg, they had artisanal chocolate which they'd gifted her in gratitude. But it all pales next to this..
When they pull back from each other, a string of their saliva drools down between their lips.
There's no other thought to be had.
They both know what's coming.
Raki can feel it. A cascading surge in his loins, wanting to come out. Clare rides him, swaying back and forth, as if in a desperation to know what it'll be like. She has him also rubbing her there, between her legs, all while her hands are sliding over his chest. God, it just feels so good..
His groaning is unmistakable. He's on the verge.
She'll meet him there.
Kissing each other once more, they both cry out together in a muffled paroxysm and she convulses along with those spurts she could just feel, inside of her, like a secret being written her body will carry forever. She's clutching his neck, hard enough that her fingernails are leaving fresh, bloody indents, while she almost loses her balance as her legs give way, quivering, having to rest her weight fully upon his body.
Raki has never felt so.. raw. In those vulnerable moments after orgasm, he'd usually shudder in disgust over what he's done just to relieve himself of that tension, like waking up from a delirium. But here, enraptured with her, hot all over as he slowly opens his eyes in a shared dream, letting those aftershocks arrive like a counter-melody to this total bliss..
A tear escapes Clare's eye. And another.
Wordlessly, she takes his hand over to her chest, as if to steady that rapturous heartbeat flooding her veins with total hysteria. When she's calmed down enough, she cradles him by the neck, as if sorry about inadvertently wounding him - kissing him knowing the feeling of being full.