[ she ducks her head to whisper it into his ear as he reaches the tendons of her throat and the protrusion of her collarbone. though she can't see, she can feel — what he feels, too. not just the awareness of her fingers fumbling to unclasp the belt around his tunic and then pull it up, out of the way of his waistband and pants. (she doesn't bother to pull his tunic off here and now — there's a franticness about this that she does not want to lose.) but ... a stirring, too. heat. desire.
that unfulfilled promise lingers between them. maybe he doesn't hate her. maybe he doesn't know what he feels about all of this yet. but he has been holding back. perhaps it's not about want, then, but need, visceral and consuming, to let that out.
his tunic belt clatters to the ground, pushed off the desk by her elbow as she gets the waistband of his pants open. her hands plant on the curve of his waist and slide down inside the loose top of his pants to settle at his hips and squeeze. she ruts against him again. ]
Don't hold back on me.
[ there is, of course, no need for speech between them. that she groans this out is then ostensibly so that he can hear this almost plea on her lips. ]
no subject
[ she ducks her head to whisper it into his ear as he reaches the tendons of her throat and the protrusion of her collarbone. though she can't see, she can feel — what he feels, too. not just the awareness of her fingers fumbling to unclasp the belt around his tunic and then pull it up, out of the way of his waistband and pants. (she doesn't bother to pull his tunic off here and now — there's a franticness about this that she does not want to lose.) but ... a stirring, too. heat. desire.
that unfulfilled promise lingers between them. maybe he doesn't hate her. maybe he doesn't know what he feels about all of this yet. but he has been holding back. perhaps it's not about want, then, but need, visceral and consuming, to let that out.
his tunic belt clatters to the ground, pushed off the desk by her elbow as she gets the waistband of his pants open. her hands plant on the curve of his waist and slide down inside the loose top of his pants to settle at his hips and squeeze. she ruts against him again. ]
Don't hold back on me.
[ there is, of course, no need for speech between them. that she groans this out is then ostensibly so that he can hear this almost plea on her lips. ]