‘I have been pondering about Federico Auditore a lot lately. I always imagine him as a sweet guy, but as of late all I could truly think about is how passionate he would be in his kisses, those blessed lips brushing against all the right spots. 

I know that he would be an absolute tease, starting just beneath the jaw, torturing my neck with small bites, teasing my breasts mercilessly. 

But he wouldn’t stop there, oh no. 

His eyes—those teasingly beautiful brown eyes—are set on his true goal: the set of lips hidden between my thighs. He continues to descend, ever so slowly, nipping at my skin each time I let out a moan of frustration. When he finally reaches for my folds, he does nothing more than giving me small pecks, frustrating me even more. I try to run my fingers through his hair to guide him toward me, but he would grab my wrist, and softly says: “Not yet, amore mio. Only when I decide to,” 

And the moment he decides to, he truly goes down on me, his lips and tongue finally giving me the attention I desperately wanted, while his fingers find their way inside me. 

At first he is still deliberately slow and tender, gently slapping my thigh each time I try to move my hips to accompany his mouth. But when he picks up the pace, he does so until he brings me over the edge, and I am left trembling and breathless and asking for even more. 

And he would happily comply. Again. And again and again.’

confession [@nemo-my-name-forevermore​]