Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Not sure what I like yet,” she pants, “still settling in, all this new… stuff I’m not used to”—and she gestures at her own body, at the breasts he couldn’t keep his hands off of once her shirt got tossed away and the wet lips sliding up and down his cock.—“and it- I’m not-“

She looks at him imploringly, and he pulls himself together enough to ask, “Something familiar, then?” (Her shoulders untense, the tight grip she had on his shoulders relaxes, and he hadn’t noticed just how uncomfortable she was until he’s letting her go, letting her set the pace.)

He has to guess how she likes it—between a slow indulgent stretch like he enjoys or a cursory one that’ll edge her pleasure with hurt like his last body—because the only hints she gives him are the way she squirms and gasps as he works his fingers into her ass. He pushes in when she’s a little too tight and knows he got it, hole in one, when she shivers out a satisfied groan at having to open up for his cock.