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There’s something about touching her that feels magical, that he thinks will always feel magical. Like he can feel every ounce of her frenetic energy even when she’s holding still, even when her heartbeat is slow and her body is still half asleep, sprawled across his bed on her stomach.
He runs a hand down her spine, straying over to the scar left from the bullet she took for him, like a moment of silent thanks — to her or to God, he doesn’t know.
And then he leans forward and kisses the back of her neck, soft lips and a tiny flick of his tongue so he can taste her.
“You are too slow, Mack,” she complains, wiggles her naked ass towards him, but he ignores it and instead slides his lips up to brush against the back of her ear.
“You like it when I’m slow,” he reminds her, injecting some breath into his voice so she shivers, so her whole body gets slightly tense and he can see her back break out in goosebumps.
They get so few mornings together, of course he’s going to go slow.
“I like it when you speed up finally,” she corrects him, and he releases a puff of air against her ear, a little half laugh.
“But you like that because I start slow. It’s the anticipation.”
He’s right and she knows it, even if she’s impatient.
She’s quiet for a moment, presses her face into her pillow as he continues to kiss the back of her neck, and he can hear the muffled moan when he scrapes his teeth there.
Mack slides his mouth down her spine, pressing kisses down into the curve of her lower back as she starts to pulse her hips against the bed, the only way she registers her impatience.
“Maaack,” Yoyo moans into the pillow, and he presses a smile to the dimple at the very base of her spine.
“Turn over,” he suggests, pulling back enough that she can flip, but she surprises him by shifting quickly — not inhumanly quickly, but quickly — to switch their positions so she’s hovering over him, straddling his hips. She grins down at him, clearly pleased with herself, and shifts so that he can feel her, wet and hot, pressing against the length of his erection.
He moans, stretches his hands to grip her hips as he pulses his hips up against her, suddenly ready for faster.
“Slowly, remember?” She teases, swiveling her hips over him so all he can think about is being inside, but he nods, and instead of pushing harder he runs his hands up her belly to cup her breasts.
Everything shrinks to watching his hands on her, thumbs flicking over her nipples, and to Yoyo’s hands on his chest, her fingernails tracing lightly over every tiny ridge of muscle.
Mack groans when she wiggles out of his hands in order to lean down and press her lips to his nipples in turn, little shocks of pleasure that tingle down his spine to lodge in his groin.
Right as he can’t stand it anymore, she pulls back and shifts her hips to pull him inside, a slide of wet heat, and then total stillness.
She’s explained her powers to him before, from the objective side and from the more poetic, and what she always comes back to is that as fast as she moves, it’s really about feeling present in the slow, steady beat of her heart. As though somehow at the base of it all that energy, it’s really about being still. Afterall, she always ends up back exactly where she started.
That’s what he feels, or what he fancies he feels, every time she takes him like this — under all the heat and the energy, it’s two hearts beating together, it’s a moment of perfect stillness in between.
And then she shifts her hips, and the encompassing stillness is replaced by the slow build of pleasure in his hips.
“Despacio,” he tries, and she smiles down at him like she always does when he flexes his meager Spanish muscles, like she’s impressed even when he knows he’s not that impressive.
“Yes,” she agrees, moves her hips in a slow circle that seems to exactly match the pounding of his heart, “slowly.”
She leans down and kisses him, deep and slow, just like her hips move.
Slowly doesn’t last, or rather it lasts only as long as it can, and then it’s a crash to the finish, it’s Yoyo laughing as she falls over him, it’s him seeing nothing but her smile as he loses himself inside of her.
“I like waking up with you,” she says some time later, her voice soft and the words buried in his shoulder.
“Even though I go too slow?” He smiles into the words.
“Even though,” she agrees, and her shining eyes peek up above his chin.