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“Let me know if I hurt you?”

Asra's response is immediate and certain, a stern, “You could never-,” but he cuts himself off with a gasp as Mahala pushes deeper. His apprentice is so caught up in being gentle that her eyes are locked onto the place where their bodies meet. The sound he makes snaps her head up, and she searches his face for pain.

He wishes he could rewind time for her. He wishes she could have seen the jerk it'd worked out of him when she’d first entered him, how he'd rolled his head back and bit his lip, how his eyes had fluttered closed just now. Instead, he opens them to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and smile. “I'm fine,” he promises. “You can give me more.”

Mahala frowns and tries to hide a soft grunt when Asra wraps his legs around her waist to nudge her deeper, casts a scowl down at him when she's met with his signature smirk. He can tell she's contemplating it, and as beautiful as she is in thought, he’d really rather she acted right now.

“This isn't a real dick, though, Asra,” she murmurs, and even though she's trying to warn him, she's still leaning down to get to his lips, speaking around a kiss to come. “I want you to feel good.”

Asra leans forward to meet her in something gentle and sweet, then swipes his tongue along her lip to swallow the soft hum she gives in response. He cups her cheek and tangles fingers in her hair to keep her close. Maybe she'd finally notice the flush in his cheeks, how blown his pupils are, this close up. “You are making me feel good,” he breathes. “That's why I'm asking for more.”

Mahala still looks hesitant, but nonetheless grounds her free hand onto Asra's hip and pushes further in.

He feels the delicious stretch immediately and he's sure to moan for her this time. His cock twitches at the heady look she shoots him when she glances up, and he would kiss her again if she wasn't still sinking in and oh-

Mahala laughs when she finally bottoms out and he lets out a broken keen, full of her. She drinks him in as he adjusts, wild cloudy hair strewn about his pillow, gold choker gleaming in the dim light, contrasting beautifully against his skin, a stray bead of sweat trailing down his neck and onto his clavicle. He almost wishes she would lick it up.

She leans forward to kiss him and Asra has to fight hard not to fuck himself on her cock when it shifts inside him, not to buck his hips at the sudden friction her bare skin offers his dick. It's mercifully easy for him, luckily, to lose himself in the feeling of her lips along his hot skin, trailing slow and up from his chest to his collarbone to his neck, and then an insultingly chaste kiss to his cheek.

She turns her head to press one more to the corner of his mouth, likely to tease him, but he catches her and slips his tongue into her mouth. He breaks away soon after, breathless, eyes half-lidded. “Don't make me beg, Mahala…”

His apprentice simply grins, a mischievous, wicked thing, and Asra realizes he might have created a monster a split second before she rocks her hips and tears a moan from him.

“Don’t give me ideas.”