[ A wobbly moan slips out of her, and her eyes flutter shut as he presses a second finger into her. How many times has she stuffed her fingers inside, wishing it was him? But his hands are bigger, his fingers thicker, and just two makes her body sing under the pleasant and novel stretch. Her knees spread wider, opening her hips to him, but also tightening her pants around her crotch and limiting movement in a frustrating way. ]

Neither have I. [ She's quick to offer this, feeling his nervousness. Breathless and increasingly feverish, the words rush out of her. Hurried and frantic and distracted. ] Before you, there was nobody that I—

[ But he knows this, of course. They both know it. They have been starving from birth. She nudges her nose against his, closes a kiss over his mouth. Hungry and probing and slow as she fishes his cock out of his pants with both hands, admiring the thick, solid weight. The skin is velvety compared to the rest of him, soft despite how rigid it is. She squeezes and palms at the head with one fist, mimicking the penetration of his fingers.

Then she draws back just enough to say, ] But I want to. I want to feel you inside of me. [ Everywhere. They're already so tangled in one another, this is almost just a ritual of communion, making the psychic physical. In that way, it feels inevitable that they should. She looks down between them, to how his ruddy cock juts out from his otherwise pale body. ] Look how deep you'll go. [ The comparison of their abdomens stirs something inside of her and her inner muscles squeeze around him in anticipation. ]