Kara laughs, albeit a breathy and choked laugh, teeth sinking into her lower lip when he pushes back to meet her. It’s still not enough -- how he can go so long being a teasing bastard is beyond her. She practically squirms and shakes, legs tenting up to push up against him.

“You’re so frakkin’ cheesy,” she rolls her eyes, even as her breath catches in her chest. (Takes one to know one.) “You’re the receiving one here, don’t you forget it.”

For now.

Watching his flushed face, slack-jawed and sweaty with the effort of holding back, she feels a twist in her gut that heightens the temperature of her blood. She feels a mixture of elation and disbelief that she’s looking at this sight in front of her, a gorgeous sight for sure (even more because she knows it’s at her hand -- or other things). She feels anchored by his hands on her arms.

“Yeah,” she finally speaks, voice raw with effort, “you feel good too, Nicholas, so good.”

Her hands drift down to his thighs, feeling the muscle shifting beneath them. Very few things in this life can top something like this.