That word - his name, but more importantly, the way she utters it - is like a direct tether to what beats behind his ribcage, beating hard enough to feel akin to exploding, and it's all because of the way she looks at him and speaks - begging, breathless.

He turns his face away, muffling an audible groan against her hip even as he coaxes his way between her legs, nudging one shoulder under her thigh. She's beautiful, aching, wanting, and he can't obey anything else but the drive of his own need. There's no self-doubt, no-fear. It all washes away the moment he puts his mouth to her to taste for the first time.