He takes his time with you because he wants everything to slow down. He wants to feel you -- really feel you -- and tell you all the things he'd like to say because he has time, because time has slowed down. "I love you like this," he murmurs, and it's through gritted teeth at the proximity of you and him formed together as one, "All for me, wet and ready," and he can feel it all. It's not fast, it's not wasted time, it's not regretted. It's you and him and it's so, so fucking hot like that.
He takes his time with you when he's drunk, and it's not even deliberately fast as he would like when he's intoxicated, seeing things in the air that don't exist. "Slow and deep," he pants out, "I want you slow tonight so we're both sore." And it takes you a while to realize it, but you find out that he wants to take you slow so when you wake up the next morning, you're languid and fuzzy like him in his post-drinking state. It's warm and it's slow and you actually notice the sun beaming on you.
He takes his time with you so you can't come as quick as you'd like. He takes his time with you so he can match the speed of your own, making sure that everything explodes into pretty white at the same time. "Wait for me," he whispers, and though he's still a little out of breath, you understand perfectly, "Don't let go just let. Let me go with you." When you think you're ready to explode, he goes slower, waiting until you've caught your breath so you can keep up with him.
He takes his time with you so you can get the other side of him, the side where things are a little sweeter, a little slower and not so dark. "You're so beautiful like this," he whispers, and because of the speed he's going and how languid his motions are, he is able to reach for your face and push back the hairs in your eyes, "So pretty and all for me. You're such a pretty girl." He leans down and kisses you, his lips just as slow and sweet as his thrusts as he holds you close.
He takes his time with you so you can feel him, can taste him, can notice every little thing he does to please you properly. "Does that feel good?" he asks softly, and he slows down just slightly, digging his heels into the mattress above you, "How good does that feel, baby?" And you're aware o everything, your senses heightened to the new extreme as he fucks you slow and deep, ramming your back further into the mattress and you see stars and all the pretty things that he brings.