3
By the time he was seated fully inside me, thick and deep, stretching me around every last inch of him, neither of us could manage more than a single shared breath, his forehead dropping to rest against mine, his hands settling firm and familiar at my hips, both of us simply breathing there a moment, joined and still, before either of us was ready to move at all.
I began to move, slow at first, testing the angle until his breath caught and his fingers tightened at my hips in a silent, unmistakable request for more. I gave it to him, rising and sinking in a rhythm that built steadily under both of us, his hips rocking up to meet mine, one hand sliding from my waist to find where we were joined, his thumb pressing slow circles against me in time with every roll of my hips, drawing a low, broken sound out of me that echoed off the cabin's low ceiling.