( there should be a name for this, she thinks, the first time i taste you.
and how was she, now, supposed to distinguish him from the bourbon? they burned the same. he could devour her, if he wanted to, reach a hand up to her throat for her to swallow, take her breath and she'd still manage to say his name. she could commit the rest of her night, just to this, the sampling of her tongue between his lips and the way his own yearns after, soft and warm and melting once they meet. it's all a slow dance but there's still a bite of haste, like an asking, is this okay? fingers in his shirt, wrinkling at the cotton, pulling and pulling still.
what was close enough? she's not sure she's ever learned.
it takes a great deal of effort to keep herself upright with how he's pinned her, that island bisecting her at the waist, limbs steady and shoulders tempted to fall back with him — and almost as if he'd heard it in her breath he assuages her with a swift, easy motion that props her atop it, instead. a gasp gives a messy break of their lips, glistening with each other, and all of that patience they'd toyed with, downing one glass of bourbon after the next is so easily taken by a hunger that doesn't know it's place. suddenly she wishes she weren't so dressed, if only to feel the contrast between those hands, the allure of warm and biting all at once.
he's teeth and tongue and she meets him there, snaring at his mouth, dragging that pillow of his lower lip back until he's left to chase it, and it's only once he does that she lets him loose. blunt, naked-glossed fingertips are carding through his hair, short but thick enough to gain some semblance of a grip, her tongue sweeping, hooking a calve at his waistline to draw him in just there.
she doesn't want to rush him, doesn't want to rush this, and there was nothing in her unwilling to stay here: learning his mouth, his breaths, how she could make his throat and his chest speak like that hum that resonates through her. idly she wonders if he can feel her heart beat through her tongue, clasping at the forearm that grounds her. )
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and how was she, now, supposed to distinguish him from the bourbon? they burned the same. he could devour her, if he wanted to, reach a hand up to her throat for her to swallow, take her breath and she'd still manage to say his name. she could commit the rest of her night, just to this, the sampling of her tongue between his lips and the way his own yearns after, soft and warm and melting once they meet. it's all a slow dance but there's still a bite of haste, like an asking, is this okay? fingers in his shirt, wrinkling at the cotton, pulling and pulling still.
what was close enough? she's not sure she's ever learned.
it takes a great deal of effort to keep herself upright with how he's pinned her, that island bisecting her at the waist, limbs steady and shoulders tempted to fall back with him — and almost as if he'd heard it in her breath he assuages her with a swift, easy motion that props her atop it, instead. a gasp gives a messy break of their lips, glistening with each other, and all of that patience they'd toyed with, downing one glass of bourbon after the next is so easily taken by a hunger that doesn't know it's place. suddenly she wishes she weren't so dressed, if only to feel the contrast between those hands, the allure of warm and biting all at once.
he's teeth and tongue and she meets him there, snaring at his mouth, dragging that pillow of his lower lip back until he's left to chase it, and it's only once he does that she lets him loose. blunt, naked-glossed fingertips are carding through his hair, short but thick enough to gain some semblance of a grip, her tongue sweeping, hooking a calve at his waistline to draw him in just there.
she doesn't want to rush him, doesn't want to rush this, and there was nothing in her unwilling to stay here: learning his mouth, his breaths, how she could make his throat and his chest speak like that hum that resonates through her. idly she wonders if he can feel her heart beat through her tongue, clasping at the forearm that grounds her. )