Fast. More than dripping now — 'flowing,' the sweet-warm rush of it filling his mouth immediately, spreading across his lips, running down the side of his face as he couldn't take it all at once, warm and thin and sweet and relentless. He swallowed, gripped her harder, pulled more, and she made the sound again — the relief-sound, the pressure easing, her shoulders dropping by the specific degree that happens when something that was too full becomes less full.
He drank.
"Slurpp...."
His eyes closed.
His hands rubbed her back — both hands, long strokes from shoulder to lower back, the motion of someone giving and receiving simultaneously, her belly warm and round against his sternum, her milk running down his throat and his chin and pooling warm on his chest.
Helena's lips found his chest.
