dreampost: even more after dark edition

[wotanon]

[ shit's going to be sexy in here.

please list what you're open or not open to somewhere in your toplevel pls and thank ]

Comments

[crossmyheartandhope]

[It's softer than before; the thumb on her cheek traces a gentle path, back and forth.]

[His other hand comes up, hesitant, to settle at her waist.]

[unbr8kable]

[Her pulse is rushing, and she nuzzles into his touch a bit. Taking care, she slides her hands to curl at the nape of his neck; wisps fingers lightly over the skin there]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He doesn't have a pulse for it to be elevated, but his face is hot, and he is excruciatingly aware of every point of contact.]

[He shivers a little, at the touch at the nape of his neck; the hand at her waist slides around to her back, fingers spreading to smooth against the fabric there.]

[unbr8kable]

[She shivers as well, his hand cool and solid through the thin fabric of her shirt. A shaky sigh and she pulls away, but barely long enough for a breath before leaning back into him, touch dreamily, gauzy soft. Despite herself, her eyes fall shut; her cheek goes even warmer under his thumb.]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[The hand on her back wanders upward, palm flat, smoothing up to the shoulder blades; the one on her face stays where it is, the thumb tracing gentle paths, like it's touching something precious.]

[He tips his head a little, to deepen the kiss - parts his lips, in invitation.]

[unbr8kable]

[She is slow to take it, though he can likely feel the slight catch of her breath when she notices. When she finally presses closer, it's careful; a little closer to 'tentative' than 'unhurried' as she dips her tongue past his lips, swipes light against his]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[The response is just as careful; when his tongue meets hers it's decidedly gentle, almost exploratory. The hand against her face drifts backward, fingers threading into the hair at the base of her skull.]

[unbr8kable]

[At the touch she shudders closer, unable to withhold a small sound. Her hands flex as well, trace over his skull and through his hair before she can catch herself.]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[The shudder is good; the sound is even better. He takes his cue from the reaction, curling his fingers in - lets them wander along her scalp, soft pressure.]

[He doesn't quite lean into the hand in his own hair, the way he usually does; that would mean leaning away from the kiss, and he's not willing to give that up. But the hand on her back closes on the fabric - tugs her, gentle, toward the couch, a voiceless invitation to join him. It can't be comfortable bending over like that, while he's still sitting down.]

[unbr8kable]

[It's not supposed to be comfortable; it's supposed to prompt her to pull away and at least attempt to salvage the normalcy of this (granted, abnormal) situation. Instead she takes this invitation too, breaking the kiss enough that she can lever herself down with him. Her face stays close; their foreheads touch as her knees slot neatly around his real one, and she noses against his cheek, hers still blazing hot.]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He shudders when she settles into place; the hand that had guided her in shifts, uncertain, to rest on her hip, as though he's not quite sure what he should be doing with it. His face is hot, too - as hot as it ever gets, these days - and with the flush, his cheeks have more color than their usual customary pale.]

[When she nuzzles in, he smiles, soft and unsure, breathlessly earnest; it feels intimate, somehow, more than anything they've done so far. He hesitates, and then he presses a gentle kiss to her cheek, and then another, little brushes of barely-there contact.]

[unbr8kable]

[Her breath catches in a little 'ah,' faint enough that he can feel it more than hear it. Something in her chest twinges at the light touches, and she shivers closer, chasing after before she can even think about it. Again her hands drift to his neck for her fingers to whisper shaky, warm trails across them.]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[How could he say no to that?]

[How could he ever want to?]

[He feathers those soft kisses out from her cheek: to the spot just below her earlobe, and then to the curve of her jaw. It's slow, and careful - painstakingly gentle, like he's handling something precious.]

[unbr8kable]

[She tips her head to give him better access, breaths shallow and pulse pounding beneath his lips. Her hands keep doing what they're doing, as if she's afraid doing anything else might somehow break this moment--wipe away the pieces someplace she can't reach.]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He hesitates at her jawline - lingers there for another second or two, like he's not sure he's allowed to go on. But the way she tips her head is an invitation if he's ever seen one, and he can't not take it.]

[He trails downward, pressing kisses to her neck - those same feather-light touches, gentle at her pulse point and then lower. Her heartbeat beneath his lips feels like a revelation; the soft movement of her fingers, those shaky trails, make it hard not to lean into her hands.]

[unbr8kable]

[As counterpoint to his gentle movements, her pulse jangles like klaxons. But instead of running from the danger she stays put, one hand solid against him, tracing idle lines over the nape of his neck. The other does the same but with more of a flutter, echoed in the small whine that refuses to stay buried deep in her throat.]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He pauses at the whine, lips pressed to the warm skin at the base of her neck - startled by the sound, and by the way it ratchets the heat in him somehow even higher.]

[He hadn't planned to go any farther than this - hadn't planned anything at all - but that sound seems to indicate he's doing something she likes. He hesitates just slightly, and then he follows the line of bare skin, down from her neck, to press a careful series of kisses to her exposed collar bone.]

[The hand at her hip shifts, as though he's not certain what to do with it; the thumb strokes there, absently, through the fabric of her skirt.]

[unbr8kable]

[She clamps down on her lower lip, mortified. But playing it cool is difficult, given the situation. Hurricane's mouth is soft, and moist, and practically freezing against the flush that's long since crept well down her chest. Of course her breath catches for an instant.

That mouth is also definitely, definitely kissing her neck, and her collar, too softly devoted to be some fluke or sort of inexplicable joke--here, finally, is when she considers that this must be a dream--still, too slow to keep from letting out another shivery breath, or from squirming around his leg, into the press of his thumb, or from pressing him closer, just a little.]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He hasn't yet considered that it might be a dream. So when he reaches the collar line of her shirt, he falters, afraid to go farther - lingers there instead, pressing soft kisses to the hollow of her throat before he begins to work back up her neck on the other side, giving it the same attention.]

[The way she's squirming is extremely difficult not to notice; the way she presses them closer even more so. He shudders, hard, aware of her heat and her motion - aware that he's making her squirm. There is something very, very appealing about the thought that he's making her feel that good.]

[His breath catches in his throat, a little; the hand on her hip shifts downward, restless, to trace the line of her thigh.]

[It's - a lot of bare skin, frankly. More bare skin than he'd been counting on, thanks to how little that skirt covers, and his face flushes darker still, but he doesn't take his hand back.]

[unbr8kable]

[The problem is that the skin of her neck is sensitive--the skin of her everything is sensitive, when treated with this much unnecessary care. The problem is that it feels good, and even if she doesn't shiver up into him he's close enough to feel the effort that it takes. The problem is that when his hand strokes over her heated skin she twitches towards him and not away.

The problem is that when she finally is able to catch her breath enough to speak, it comes out breathless and needy when it's meant to be strong and authoritative. When her hands slide down to grip his shoulders and do--something, they get distracted just smoothing over the slender muscle and tracing the still-too-sharp ridges of his bones, and the problem is she can't quite make herself stop.]

Hurricane...

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He stills at the way she says his name - can't quite suppress the shiver that races through him at the sound of it.]

[His hand stutters to a stop on her thigh; his lips pause in their careful path up toward her jaw.]

...yeah?

[unbr8kable]

[There isn't any more to the thought when she says it, and once he stops, it takes her another few breaths to catch up enough to be able to start thinking again. Even before then she is very, very aware of the contact on her skin, too close and yet too far--too carefully, surreally still, like a program waiting for a command--like imagination trying to stay in a dream after having mostly woken up.

And it's suddenly clear how this can't, couldn't be real, to be fitted together so neatly--treated so preciously--for everything to feel so right.

It comes on slowly enough that she doesn't attempt to scramble away or anything, not that that would do anything to calm her pulse or dull the flush over her body. Still, it's probably obvious from this close how the long, shaky breath she draws isn't quite the same timbre as before.]

Ah...

[crossmyheartandhope]

...Nem?

[He hesitates, then eases back, just a little - just enough to peer up at her expression. There's a small crease between his brows, and his eyes flicker back and forth, searching her face.]

Is this...?

[unbr8kable]

[Her cheeks are still flushed, embarrassment creeping across her face but mostly landing at wry]

Uh...yeah. I mean, it's...natural, I guess...for a growing kid...? Maybe ate something strange before bed or something...

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He hesitates longer, this time; licks at his lips, unconsciously.]

D'you, like. D'you want me to -

[Keep going, he means to say, but the words trail off. He can feel his own cheeks burning - ducks his head, a little, glancing away.]

What - do you want me to do?