Control
It isn't often she allows him control in the bedroom, isn't often she pulls her fiery lover onto the bed over her, rather than under her. The moment of confusion in his eyes makes her smile before their lips meet, mouths mating in their own way before he draws back for breath, panting breaking the veil of silence in the room.
She laughs as she wraps her arms around him, letting him taste her neck, lower to her flat chest, his tongue flicking out to taste her hardening rosy nipples. The laugh shifts to a pleasured purr, a soft, encouraging sound as her fingers tangle in his hair, leading him to the other side when he's satisfied the first.
It's moments like this she fears, when his gentleness threatens her equilibrium, when his flushed face watches hers for that approval she cannot help but offer. Pride has brought so many to the heights of pleasure, has had men and women screaming whatever name she offered for the night in moments. Never once has anyone else been allowed to touch her like this with such softness she fears she might break. Pride has to stand alone, is always alone, but she could lose herself in Michael's caresses; they're far too much for her to resist like this.
This tenderness given to her with every kiss, every lick as he moves lower to pay homage to the butterfly tattooed on her thigh is more than she's ever known, ever wanted. It is more than a Sin could ask for, this slow, loving worship as his mouth descends on her nether-mouth, dragging a long moan from her. This is all that is real, all that she is exists only in this moment.