#Arctic journey

[skannar]

Polar Ice Sheet : Minute Fiction

The Minute Fiction is a series of small immersive fiction stories created to give readers a quick daily mental break. How many minutes are in a month? Borrow one for yourself and have an adventure. Survival on the Polar Ice Sheet Amidst the vast expanse of the frozen Arctic, you, a massive adult polar bear, embark on a solitary journey that stretches for miles over the desolate ice. Your…

[variousfandomthoughts]

I might do a part 2 if this is popular, since there were many “don’t” songs I couldn’t include.

[now-winter-comes-slowly]

"Snow and ice here have an urgent, personal force, like a dark God demanding to be propitiated, and I thought the experience would be less unbearable if I could find it in art. What occurs to me now, though it didn’t at the time, is that I was grieving — grieving the warmer city I had lived in for nearly two decades, grieving the life I thought I would have, grieving the person I had been, before I became a parent, and had to choose my location based on things like livable rents and good public schools. The winter was the part of the move I dreaded, and so it came to stand in for what I had lost."

[discworldwitches]

my greatest life struggle is suppressing the urge to go to places with polar bears...

[a-bucket-in-the-void]

my favorite hobby is lying <3

[daddy-long-legssss]

The Story Behind The Song: Arctic Monkeys’ early ambitions on ‘A Certain Romance’

Lucy Harbron – Far Out Magazine | January 17, 2024

It was 2006. Mortgages were crashing, and businesses were going bust. Tony Blair was on his last legs in office as the longest-serving prime minister since Margaret Thatcher, and the hangover of ‘Cool Brittania’ was beginning to set in with an unexpected ferocity. Things were bleak when a young Alex Turner sang, “There ain’t no romance around there” through the public’s speakers. Arctic Monkeys were about to write themselves into musical history as the voice of a new generation.

The final song on their debut album, there has always been something special about ‘A Certain Romance’. In 2022, after the release of their seventh album, The Car, Turner seemed to find himself reflecting back on that 2006 track. To the musician, that early cut holds a clue to everything that was to come as he said the piece “showed that we did actually have these ambitions beyond what we once thought we were capable of”.

Coming in at over the five-minute mark, ‘A Certain Romance’ almost feels like the Arctic Monkeys’ version of a rock opera, summarising all the themes, feelings and energy that came before it on their seminal album Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not. It has the cheekiness of ‘Fake Tales Of San Francisco’ and the catchy instrumentals of hits like ‘Dancing Shoes’ or ‘I Bet That You Look Good On The Dancefloor’. Utilising the northern charm of ‘Mardy Bum’, it stands as a final, neatly summarising point on the social commentary found in their early tracks like ‘From The Ritz To The Rubble’ or ‘Riot Van’. Really, it could be argued that ‘A Certain Romance’ is the ultimate example of Arctic Monkeys’ original sound, perfectly encapsulating all the things that made the world listen up and pay attention.

It’s like they seemed to know that, too, always allowing the song a special place. In fact, it was really the band’s opening remark. Years before the offer of a debut album came around, the group were a well-oiled machine with their own local hits. They had the northern live music scene in their hands as their homemade demo CD was passed around like everyone’s worst-kept secret. Beneath the Boardwalk features eight out of the 13 songs that would be on Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not, albeit in a slightly different, lower-quality version. But the opening number, ‘A Certain Romance’, sounds just the same.

It’s all there, from the rolling opening drums to that final guitar solo. Recorded and produced in a rented studio at only age 17, the existence of ‘A Certain Romance’, one of the band’s most explorative and energetic numbers, in this form this early in their career feels like a diamond sitting in a mine. It proves that they were always onto something special.

They never needed any help. In fact, their producer, Jim Abbiss, noted that they even seemed nervous about the help. “I think they were probably a bit weary, like ‘who’s this guy? And is he gonna make our sound this or that.’”

They didn’t want anything to change too much, as the group already had the songs figured out. Turner certainly did, as the track’s meandering narrative about hometown lads, fights, and local boredom is already there. Talking on a podcast, original member Andy Nicholson revealed the story behind the song. “We had a practice room with a pool table in, and we had a party in there, and we invited another band who were friends of ours, and we all had some drinks,” he said. “Then something happened, someone throws a pool cue, someone throws a pool ball, and everyone ends up fighting,” he added, explaining the lyrics, “there’s boys in bands / And kids who like to scrap with pool cues in their hands.”

But the magic of Arctic Monkeys lies in their nuance. What begins as a snooty analysis of his local landscape is a genuinely affectionate take. “Well, over there, there’s friends of mine / What can I say? I’ve known ’em for a long long time / And, yeah, they might overstep the line / But you just cannot get angry in the same way,” Turner sings, looking around at his bandmates and lifelong friends. ‘A Certain Romance’ is not only a time capsule for the group’s beginnings but is an ode to all the people who were there with them. It’s an ode to the hometown that made them and all its various characters.

But as the last guitar solo roars to life, there is an unspoken statement that they’re going to be bigger than what they came from. “I remember when we were recording ‘A Certain Romance’ and having a conversation with the producer about the final guitar solo,” Turner told NME, recalling the moment these songs were reworked for their debut. But they wouldn’t let anyone mess with ‘A Certain Romance’, knowing exactly what they were doing and trying to say with that one. In the 2003 demo version, all the feeling is already there, and Turner wouldn’t risk it.

“There’s something that happens at the end of that track where we break some rules in a single moment,” he continued. What happens at the end of the piece feels even more special, considering how the album was recorded. “These are the songs we wanna do, and I think this is the order we wanna do them in,” Alex Turner told their producer, recounting the conversation in 2007 to RadioX, “And he goes, ‘alright, we’ll try to record them in that order as well.’” As the final song, that last guitar solo is the last thing recorded for the album, standing as a cathartic outlet and a chance for the band to prove themselves.

“We focused on the [emotional] effect of the instrumentals over the words,” Turner reflected on the track, concluding, “and I feel like we’ve been trying to do that again and again since then.”

+

[xtruss]

The Last Flower At The Top of The World—and The Perilous Journey To Reach It

Scientists Journeyed to a Stretch of Gravel Off The Coast of Greenland—The Farthest North You Can Go and Still Walk on Land. These Photos Show What They Found There.

— By Sarah Gibbens | Photographs byJeff Kerby | May 08, 2024

An Arctic Poppy thrives on the Northern Coast of Greenland. Among the plant life in this region, these hardy Flowers are like Giants. Some, like this one, grow in clumps that protect themselves from harsh weather. Like a satellite dish, they will slowly turn to follow the sun. On an expedition to understand what lives at this latitude, an Arctic Poppy like this was found about 20 inches south of the World's Northernmost Plant.

At the top of the Earth, the northernmost stretch of land a person can stand on is Inuit Qeqertaat, also named Kaffeklubben Island by early 20th Century Danish Explorers. The region is a dark gray stretch of gravel on the northern coast of Greenland where land slowly gives way to frozen sea ice.

To find what lives amid these rocky soils, climate change researchers and National Geographic Explorers Brian Buma and Jeff Kerby and their team embarked on a journey to survey the region. There, they found a common species of moss (Tortula Mucronifolia), the world's northernmost plant, and a yellow and lime-green Arctic poppy (Papaver Radicatum), growing just a few inches south of the moss.

On the nearby mainland, Greenlandic archaeologist Aka Simonsen discovered a ring of roughly 700-Year-Old Inuit Stones, which may be the northernmost archaeological remains.

Growing in Extremes: The Northernmost Stretch of land in the World, Inuit Qeqertaat, sits off the coast of Johannes V. Jensen Land, a Peninsula in Far Northern Greenland. National Geographic Explorer Brian Buma traveled there to find the northernmost plant-a common moss—and the northernmost flower a few inches south-an Arctic poppy.

Rosemary Wardley, NGM Staff; Martin Gamache, National Geographic Society Sources: Jeff Kerby, Scott Polar Research Institute; Brian Buma, Environmental Defense Fund; SkySat imagery from July 13, 2023, Planet Labs PBC; ArcticDEM, Version 4.1

The research team left their own mark on the mainland coast, staking plots and recording the vegetation they contained to create a highly detailed digital map of the area they surveyed. Information collected from this trip will be the first data logs in what Buma and Kerby hope will be a long timeline of research in the far northern region.

Here, above the Arctic Circle, the planet is warming four times faster than anywhere else on Earth. Changes here will have ripple effects across the globe, which is why the team braved harsh conditions to find what lives on the edge.

The expedition team was led by climate scientist and National Geographic Explorer Brian Buma. The north coast of Greenland was used as a staging point while shuttling gear across sea ice to Inuit Qeqertaat (Kaffeklubben Island).

Brian Buma collected samples from different layers of this snow glacier to understand the unique properties of water in this rarely visited region. This part of the world is a polar desert, and precipitation is scant, so the samples in this glacier represent many years of snow.

From above, the northern coast of Inuit Qeqertaat—and thus the northernmost stretch of land on Earth—is visible. It was near this shoreline that the team found the edge of terrestrial life, including a common species of moss, officially the farthest north, and the northernmost flower on earth—found about 20 inches south of the moss. The small, gravelly island is about a mile north of mainland Greenland.

This is the northernmost flower on earth, a lone and somewhat ragged Arctic Poppy, sitting near the shoreline of Inuit Qeqertaat. Poppies dotted the northern edge, with a few purple mountain saxifrage (Saxifraga oppositifolia) only slightly farther up the slope. In the background, Brian Buma surveys various contenders for northernmost plant before a final survey determines this flower to be the official runner-up. Seen just behind the flower, a tuft of ‘Mucronate screw moss’ (Tortula mucronifolia) claims that title.

Identifying mosses and other tiny Arctic flora requires a hand lens and careful attention to detail. Up close, Brian Buma examines their adaptations to cold weather, such as small hairs coating a plant's exterior.

Aka Simonsen, a Greenlandic archeologist, prepares to leave camp with Brian Buma, just as the weather begins to turn. After just a few hours the northernmost island, the team left, intending to return the next day. The window to return quickly closed after a few days when bad weather turned into a storm that brought strong winds and heavy precipitation. The July storm dumped nearly a foot of snow and drifts reached several feet. Harsh conditions trapped the team at their base camp for a week.

Aka Simonsen measures a ring of large stones that may have been used to anchor a tent. The stones are roughly 700 years old and likely left by the Thule people. These artifacts were found on the mainland, near the team's base camp and could be the northernmost documented archeological site on Earth.

When the plane returning to retrieve the team landed, it got stuck in snow, and a makeshift runway had to be constructed by scooping snow with snow shoes. Gravel was placed by hand so the plane's tires wouldn't slip on ice or stick in snow during takeoff. Scientists who return to this northernmost region will be able to use the team's detailed digital map to chart how the ecosystem is changing as the planet warms.

[cadencewishes]

[darktwistdchaos-blog]

[hero-of-the-wolf]

Hi Emmie!

If you’re in the mood, I’d totally appreciate some random animal facts! (I really love hearing/reading facts about animals )

If you’re not in the mood, I totally understand that. Please don’t feel pressured. I hope you’ll feel better soon and I keep praying for you! 🙏

Xiphactinus was a large predatory fish from the Cretaceous period!! one famous fossil specimen (4.2 meters long) was discovered with a nearly perfectly preserved fish (1.9 meters long) inside it’s stomach— the xiphactinus died soon after, probably from its prey struggling from within 🫢

Penguins were actually named after the great auk!! it filled a similar niche as the famous bird in the northern hemisphere (before they were all hunted to extinction 💔), so when Western Science discovered that penguins also existed, they were named after the auk’s scientific name Pinguinus impennis!!

Salamanders can regrow lost limbs and organs, including parts of their brains!!!

Horses are out here literally walking around on a single toe!! their feet are so weird when you actually think about it, like look at this—

The arctic tern makes the longest known migration, flying a staggering 44,000 miles a year, from the arctic to the antarctic and back again!!!

Pigeons use natural landmarks to navigate :)

Argentavis was estimated to have had a 5-6m wingspan!!

Oilbirds can echolocate!! Their vocalizations are easier to hear than bats’, too!! but they don’t use their echolocation to hunt, since they eat fruit :)

[nikomedes]

goes on a mental journey of labyrinthine complexity, vague symbolism, and feverish thought association and emerges from my pondering chamber sweating, shaking, to respec my bg3 pc into a spear fighter

[wild-wow-facts]

The Arctic Tern's Epic Journey

Ever wondered which bird travels the furthest? The Arctic Tern migrates an astonishing 70,900 kilometers each year! Discover this natural marvel.

Check out my other videos here: Animal Kingdom Animal Facts Animal Education

[k3llyyyyyy]

[fouadfares92]

Support My Family Journey to Safety and Peace I hope everyone is well Your donation is not just a donation; it's an opportunity to rebuild life and brighten a better tomorrow. Be part of our hopeful story, for we need your hand to start anew.

this is the campaign link 👇

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[reiderwriter]

505

Week Four of my yearly playlist challenge!

Summary: When you fall asleep on the overnight drive between one case and the next, Spencer gets awfully distracted by your sleep talking.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Partial Spencer POV, dom!Spencer, brat!Reader, pain play (scratching, choking, spanking, etc), degradation (use of whore, slut), masturbation (m and f), orgasm denial, breeding kink, creampie, cockwarming.

A/N; Thank you to the Arctic Monkeys for fuelling my delusions and for gif makers everywhere for their services to horniness. This was the first playlist fic chosen from a recommended song, so if you enjoyed it, don't forget to send me more song recommendations for the playlist!~

Masterlist || Playlist

Spencer was never the most confident driver in the BAU, but between the two of you, he was the only one who possessed a licence. 

Which is how he found himself driving through the night with you asleep in his passenger seat, trying not to be distracted by the small whimpers and sighs dropping from your mouth. 

You'd been sent across state lines to investigate a recent homicide that may have been linked with your current case, and now that you'd deemed it relevant to your case, you were driving back to the rest of the team with all the documents you needed in tow. 

He'd been happy to drive when you left, with the sky black and the air cold, knowing that the country roads that would lead you just over the border would be practically empty. He'd even been content to let you sleep the majority of the journey, having noticed how little sleep you'd managed to get so far on this case. 

He'd been happy until your lips parted and you'd whispered his name in a moan. 

He'd thought you were awake at that moment and assumed you were about to ask where you were or what time it was. But you hadn't opened your eyes, and your breaths were still even and steady. 

You did it again five minutes later, and the gentle sound hit the hairs on the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine that settled comfortably in his now tight pants. 

‘Shit,’ he thought, sparing a glance at you whilst keeping his hands comfortable at 10 and 2, his posture rigid as he willed other parts of his body to relax. 

Your legs had splayed open, your hand having fallen unconsciously between them for some kind of relief. He didn't let his thoughts linger where his eyes had fallen. 

He tried to convince himself that you were just dreaming about a case. Maybe he'd been shot in your dream, and you'd felt sad. Maybe your moans were ones of sorrow. 

“Spencer, fuck…”

Maybe he was going to hell for the thoughts flooding his brain because he wanted nothing more than to slide a hand into your pants and start giving you the relief you so blatantly begged for. 

He settled for turning into the next motel he saw advertised on the road. Hotch had told them, of course, that they could rest up for the night if needed, but he'd been too eager to get on the road while it was clear. But with his mind fogged with less than ideal thoughts, and your obviously aching body moaning beside him, a motel honestly couldn't hurt. 

You woke up slowly as he parked the car, the lack of motion wearily drawing you from your dream. He looked across at you and let out a sigh of relief to see you conscious. 

He'd been willing to carry you to whatever room you'd get, but he didn't know whether his hands would linger over your body. Wouldn't know if he'd be able to retract his hands at all if you reacted like that in your sleep. 

Now you were awake and looking at him, talking to him even, but all he could think about was whether you'd react better to his touch when awake. How could he get you to moan his name again, and how loud would you dare do it?

“Spence? Hello, are you listening?”

“What?” 

“Okay, I'm glad you pulled off the road if you're so tired you're not even hearing me speak,” you laughed a little, and the sound shot straight to his cock. 

Your voice was thick with sleep, and the phantom of his name hung on your lips, having been the last words to drop from your tongue. He usually had better control of himself. 

“Yeah, let's go get some sleep. You sounded pretty tired, too.” 

“Sounded?” You asked, and he watched your face warp in gentle confusion. He bit his tongue, trying to retract the statement, choosing the cold, biting winter air over the sight of you with a pout on your lips. 

His brain was addled with thoughts of those two plump cushions pouting around his cock as he held your hair back and- and yes, the cold air was definitely necessary. 

“You stretch your legs, I'll go organise the room,” you said, climbing out of your side of the car. He nodded along, not trusting his voice not to break like a prepubescent boy and turning his back to you, not trusting his eyes to linger awkwardly on your ass. 

It seemed like seconds, and then you were back leading him to the rooms you'd booked. 

When you unlocked only one door, with only one key, however, Spencer found all the progress of the last few minutes squashed immediately. 

“We're sharing?” He hung around the door, not sure whether to step inside or just resign himself to sleeping in the car. He made a mental note to grab some tissues before heading back out to the car if this conversation ended the way he thought it would. 

“Yeah, they only had one room cleaned and ready right now. It's fine, right? We've shared rooms on cases before.” 

You’d shared rooms on cases before, but never after he'd driven for nearly a half hour listening to you moan his name. He'd usually been too exhausted after full days of work and had regrettably fallen asleep first each time you'd been roommates. 

“Yeah, it's cool.” He cleared his throat, trying to make the octave jump his voice had just made it seem like a symptom of some kind of sickness he was coming down with. 

“Great, let me just go shower quickly, and then we can get into bed.” 

Warnings signals rang throughout his head, but he still sat patiently listening to the water running in the shitty motel bathroom. Grabbing his go bag, he readied himself for sleep, trying to ignore the fact that you were hot and wet and naked just a wall away and that he could hear everything. 

Every sigh you released, every trickle of water running across your skin. Every mumble of his name. 

Again, he thought he'd imagined it, but now he was sure you were torturing him. 

Your gasps of air were less innocent than they were four minutes ago, chest having faster and faster, and he thought it was clear that your hand covered your mouth to make you less audible. He didn't know what you were doing, but it didn't matter much to his cock, which had stiffened painfully once again. Unconsciously, his hand reached for it, needing to give himself some release. He'd already pulled off his slacks and put on his baggier sleep pants, which did nothing to hide his affliction. 

Instead, it was somehow more obvious, painfully so. And his hand was pawing at it through the thin material, chasing that high that you yourself were likely close to in the bathroom. 

It was only when the shower shut off once more that he realised how fogged his brain had been. His cock throbbed in his hand, and it certainly wasn't going down anytime soon, and you'd be out of the bathroom in minutes if not seconds. 

With no other choice, he dived under the bed sheets and pulled them up across his chest, too, and began to pretend to sleep. 

When the light spilt from the bathroom, he screwed his eyes shut tighter, even as his brain willed him to sneak a look at you. 

But he held firm, telling himself that he just needed to wait for you to fall asleep and then he'd relieve himself. 

At least those were his plans until he felt the dip in the bed, the movement of his sheets, and the warmth spreading across the bed from you to him. 

You'd climbed into bed right next to him. Your ass was mere centimetres away from his crotch, and he shuddered in pleasure. Shuddered. 

He tried to keep his breathing still, even, and he really thought after a few minutes that you too had fallen asleep. It was all but impossible as your body cuddled in closer to his and he found your ass pressed comfortably against his straining cock. 

“Y/N, you need to move,” he warned, breath shooting out of him as he resisted digging his hands into your breasts and holding you tight so you couldn't move. 

“I don't want to,” you replied sleepily, either not noticing the danger you were in or not caring. 

His hands rested on your hips, trying to press you just slightly away so his own hips could scoot back, but you clung to his heat. 

“It's cold in here, Spencer, and you're like a furnace right now.” With those pouty words, you turned your body around and wrapped your hips up and around his body. He scooted back as you did, though, just an inch too far, and instead of landing softly against his chest, the two of you landed in a tangled mess on the floor. 

“Spencer,” you moaned again, this time in shock, as you perhaps finally felt his aching length poking the inside of your thigh. 

He'd dampened your fall on the way down, clasping you to him as he flailed in the air for a few seconds, bringing his downfall on faster with your ass cupped in his palms. 

“Fuck, Spencer, you're so hard.” His dick twitched at the sound of your tired voice pressed against his ear. 

You pulled away slowly, head peeking down between you, trying to catch a glimpse of his still hardening cock between the two of you. 

“Don't look, it'll get harder,” he grunted, grasping your hips harder and trying to catch your attention again. But that just had you grinding down into his hips again, and your mouth widened in that perfect ‘o’ as you felt the desperation and need drip from him. 

“Spencer,” you said, hips reacting slowly at first as they kept up the small movements of pressing down on him and lifting your hips slightly to do so again. 

You were grinding your cunt into his hard cock, pinning him to the ground and using his body to get yourself off. 

It was the most deliriously arousing thing he'd ever born witness to. 

“Y/N, stop it before you regret it.” His tone was a warning, but his words came out at barely a whisper. You didn't even bother with a reply. 

“Y/N, please I mean it-” 

“Spencer, fuck-” you moaned for the last time before he pushed you to the ground and pressed his lips against yours. 

He'd hit his limit, and now he was going to reach his reward. 

He ran his hands up to the waistband of your sleep shorts and quickly tugged them down, lips not leaving yours as he forced his tongue into your mouth. Your moans were throaty now, and they were loud, your brain so delirious with just you'd completely bypassed any shy feelings. 

After making quick work of your pants, he grabbed your hand in his and moved it over his throbbing cock, showing you what it was you needed from him. 

“Stroke it.” 

You did. Sliding a hand into his pants, you gripped him firmly in your hand and gently ran your fingers up and down his tip, more teasing than anything solid. 

Spencer didn't complain, though, knowing he wouldn't last that long if you took your job as seriously as he was about to take his. 

“Spread your legs. Now.” 

You weren't sure what it was about his tone, but you complied easily. His fingers reached out, and he almost sent up a prayer as his fingers came into contact with your wet, heat. You were so aroused. 

“Did you dream about me? Earlier in the car?” He questioned, two fingers slipping easily inside your pussy as his thumb traced your clit.

“Y-Yes.” 

“Did you think about me in the shower?” 

“Spencer, I can expl-” 

“Answer me. Please.” 

“Yes.” 

“You were touching yourself thinking about me, knowing I could hear just how much of a slut you were through these walls. You wanted this, Y/N.” 

He increased his pace as your eyes clouded over, your already sleepy countenance looking decidedly more ready for release and rest. 

But he wasn't in a giving mood. 

“What an impolite little whore,” he whispered in your ear, withdrawing his hands completely and picking himself up from the floor. 

Your eyes shot open in confusion and pain as he sat himself on the edge of the bed. You watched his movements, saw him pull his still erect cock from his pants and begin stroking himself, and quickly organised your limps into a kneeling position by his feet. 

He watched you closely as you let your head fall onto his thigh, your eyes following each pump of his hand up and down, and up and down. 

“Spencer, please fuck me,” you pleaded with him, trying to resist the temptation to wrap your legs around his and hump his leg like a real bitch in heat. Though he'd probably greatly enjoy the view. 

“Why should I?” 

“Because if you don't, I'm going to sit here and finger myself until I pass out from exhaustion. And then I'm going to request a room with you on every other case this year and do it all over again.” 

“You're manipulative, you know that?” 

“I just know what I want, Spencer.” 

“Then come and take it.” 

Though he told you to come to him, it was his hand on your neck that guided you to your place in his lap. 

It was his hand on his cock that lined himself up with your cunt. It was his hips that snapped up into yours as he finally took you. 

But it was your lips that screamed his name as he fucked you roughly. 

Each thrust was most intense than the last, deeper, harder, faster.

You clawed at his hair, you bit his bottom lip when your mouths Mey again. You clawed your nails across his shoulders and back. 

He pressed you back into the mattress, and you wrapped your legs around him one more time, urging him to stay right there for the rest of the night. 

His hands found your breasts, and he grabbed them again, roughly.

It was finally too much, and, as he pinched down on your nipple hard to see that beautiful mix of pleasure and pain one more time, you came around his cock, heat spreading out of you in waves as your thighs twitched under the weight of sheathing him. 

“I'm going to cum, Y/N, I'm going to cum,” he dragged his teeth across your neck, whispering the words like a prayer. 

You couldn't reply, mouth so heavy with lust your tongue couldn't move if his wasn't forcing it. 

“I'm going to cum inside you,” he whispered again, his voice a growl of pleasure as your eyes shot open again. 

All you could do was moan his name as he painted your cunt white, pressing his entire weight down on you without a care in the world. 

You remained locked in that embrace for a long moment, your body tired and brain similarly diminished. Trusting him to take care of things, you let your eyes droop closed and let sleep consume you. 

Your last thought was on his weight still pressed into yours, and the fact that he was still yet to pull out of you and spill his well-placed seed.