[That's what you like are the words she swallows against his mouth, and she presses back against him, giving as much as he's taking. Her hands scrabble as soon as he releases them, the one that had been between her legs and his mouth running a wet streak across his back, the other on the nape of his neck, her hips rising up against him.
There's a request there, and it's not a timid, polite one. The sound in the back of her throat is a high-pitched whine, now.]
[God he loves that, the unwillingness to lie back and take it, that she involves herself as much as he does, and he's almost unwilling to pull back long enough to nod to the side.]
My wallet.
[Face and hands sticky, he kicks off his shoes, his half-shed jeans, settling over her.]
It's not that she doesn't practice it (because she does) but because it's delaying what she wants at this moment, but she reaches for his wallet and opens it. To her credit, she doesn't look for photos or IDs or other things that a man might carry in his wallet - instead she finds the packet of foil and takes it out, pushing the wallet way after.
She opens it, orients the condom in her fingers and strokes it over his erection, fingers brushing it down. When it's on she leans back up against him, her face in his neck, and nips the skin there. It's not enough to leave a mark but enough to be felt, tugging along his collarline.
From where she is her voice is muffled, a bit]
You don't need me to ask you, do you? I will, if you want.
[The hint of desperation in her voice is pretty clear, though]
[He's just glad the thing's still there. There's no secondary stock in his dresser, so any repeat performance is going to involve choices being made. Ready to say she doesn't have to ask for anything, he hesitates, gaze flicking down to the top of her head, hair mussed against his shoulder, and wonders if its something she likes.
Not incomprehensible (it's something he likes) for anyone but her.
He holds her shoulders, ducking his head to kiss her and nudge her focus upward. Tests the theory, although there's something too fond - too warm in the way he looks at her for the wording to hold much weight.]
I want you to show me how you want it. Then I want you to ask.
[She considers that for a second, because interpretations can vary (not much, but enough for her to think it over) before she wraps her legs around his waist and tugs their hips together, flush, so that his cock rubs against her skin, her mouth against his again, her hands moving south to his ass.]
Come on, Robert Chase, I want you to fuck me.
[There's a slight keen in her voice now, one that is more likely to go low than it is to go high. She lets go of him then to move back, giving them space so he can see her, and her hands move around his hips, ghost along his erection again]
If she was planning any more pleases he silences them as well as the need, mouth rough and urgent against hers, the capacity for conversation getting irretrievably lost somewhere between positioning himself and pushing into her. After all the waiting there's no gentle start or slow build, just fuck and god gasped against her skin as he presses her down.
[Her legs immediately move to help him go deeper, faster at the same time that her mouth responds to his. There's something that's pure instinct, something that's animal about this, her fingers in his hair as she move her mouth back to his, to his eyes, his cheekbones, her teeth against his earlobes and the skin of his neck.
Whatever sounds she's making now aren't whimpers anymore, they're thick and coming from her chest.]
[Ordinarily he'd say that she's the least animal of any of them, but he's not making imaginary comparisons now. He's not thinking much, and he'd hold on to this white noise in his head if he could.
He whimpers, at her teeth, hips bucking hard enough against her that his hand loses purchase on the sheets and he drops to his elbow, startled for the second it takes to laugh and kiss her. While he's there, perhaps he can take her hands and draw them upwards, force himself to eke this out at least a little, slowing to look down at her. The sweat between her breasts is sea-salt against his tongue.]
[She's laughing now, too, her eyes half-lidded, and she's clearly enjoying herself, her hips meeting his in a syncopated rhythm, one of her hands taking his to the space where their bodies meet, right against her clit.
She bites again, then, lightly and then a little harder. She can tell he likes it from his reactions, but she doesn't want to take it too far, either]
[It's just right, for this encounter. Not close to as much as he can take - she'd have no need to worry - but, for this, just a new edge of sensation already building to a peak. His thumb rolls against her clit, slick and firm, and he can't stay slow any longer.]
[He shakes his head at the instruction, propping his free arm under her shoulders in a demi-embrace. Not so much breathing heavily now as struggling to get air past the catch in his throat, he rocks up against her, with her, deeper, hitting new angles and rocking against her clit.]
[She writhes, then, trying to hold off an orgasm. It's building up, her skin flushing red, her legs tightening around him. She moves her mouth to his again, because she's embarrassed, a little, about how good he feels, she doesn't want him to look at her face just now, but even through the kiss the sound of voice cuts through.
She just can't stop whimpering against him, and soon she's trembling slightly with the orgasm she can't contain, flush against him, tightening around him]
[Sheer luck, not technique or anything else here has her tipping the edge first. He's a patient man, if it had been the other way round he's have enjoyed the process of catching her up to him. But there's no faulting the way she feels around him, or the view when he teases her by keeping the brush of his lips brief, pulling back to look at her before dotting her mouth with kisses again. It's a sight he doesn't want to miss.]
Saya.
[His voice is all appreciation, and just a touch of the wickedness she described as he continues.]
I mean, Saya Santoso.
[She'll get her own vantage point in a moment, because it's not long before the muscles in his jaw, down his neck to where her hands wrap his shoulders tense sharply, his pace stuttering just a second before he comes.]
[She smiles, blissed out a bit as she settles back into the bed. It takes her a long moment before she unhooks her ankles, before she releases him, although her hands are still on his face, on his skin. She doesn't want to lose contact with him, as if this is something more than a one-night stand.
Just because it's what it is doesn't mean that Saya will treat it that way.]
[It can't be more, that's the safety inherent in it, the reason he relaxes as he dips a shoulder into the mattress and rolls off her, tugging her close again in the same movement.
Without that safety, there's every chance Chase could get himself in trouble. Later he'll tell himself to make more careful choices.
But now he doesn't think about it, in case regret or longing creep in somewhere they don't belong.
He blinks at her, tugging at a strand of long ago conversation.]
[Lets not rule anything out. For a late starter, Chase doesn't need to regret the loss of his teenage years in terms of stamina. But when it comes to sleep, for once, warm, he's going to rest well.]
[Its a pleasant night, and deep sleep, and some time in the middle of the Saya's temperature rises, her breath eases slightly, she stills against Chase's side. She opens her eyes then, and closes them again.
She's not usually a cuddler but she's not moving. When the light finally filters in the room she keeps her eyes closed. Saya is a predator whose gift is patience. She can wait for him to wake first.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action;
[That's what you like are the words she swallows against his mouth, and she presses back against him, giving as much as he's taking. Her hands scrabble as soon as he releases them, the one that had been between her legs and his mouth running a wet streak across his back, the other on the nape of his neck, her hips rising up against him.
There's a request there, and it's not a timid, polite one. The sound in the back of her throat is a high-pitched whine, now.]
Should I say please?
action;
My wallet.
[Face and hands sticky, he kicks off his shoes, his half-shed jeans, settling over her.]
action;
It's not that she doesn't practice it (because she does) but because it's delaying what she wants at this moment, but she reaches for his wallet and opens it. To her credit, she doesn't look for photos or IDs or other things that a man might carry in his wallet - instead she finds the packet of foil and takes it out, pushing the wallet way after.
She opens it, orients the condom in her fingers and strokes it over his erection, fingers brushing it down. When it's on she leans back up against him, her face in his neck, and nips the skin there. It's not enough to leave a mark but enough to be felt, tugging along his collarline.
From where she is her voice is muffled, a bit]
You don't need me to ask you, do you? I will, if you want.
[The hint of desperation in her voice is pretty clear, though]
action;
Not incomprehensible (it's something he likes) for anyone but her.
He holds her shoulders, ducking his head to kiss her and nudge her focus upward. Tests the theory, although there's something too fond - too warm in the way he looks at her for the wording to hold much weight.]
I want you to show me how you want it. Then I want you to ask.
action;
Come on, Robert Chase, I want you to fuck me.
[There's a slight keen in her voice now, one that is more likely to go low than it is to go high. She lets go of him then to move back, giving them space so he can see her, and her hands move around his hips, ghost along his erection again]
Please?
action;
If she was planning any more pleases he silences them as well as the need, mouth rough and urgent against hers, the capacity for conversation getting irretrievably lost somewhere between positioning himself and pushing into her. After all the waiting there's no gentle start or slow build, just fuck and god gasped against her skin as he presses her down.
Quick, sharp breaths, and a smile.]
action;
Whatever sounds she's making now aren't whimpers anymore, they're thick and coming from her chest.]
action;
He whimpers, at her teeth, hips bucking hard enough against her that his hand loses purchase on the sheets and he drops to his elbow, startled for the second it takes to laugh and kiss her. While he's there, perhaps he can take her hands and draw them upwards, force himself to eke this out at least a little, slowing to look down at her. The sweat between her breasts is sea-salt against his tongue.]
Re: action;
She bites again, then, lightly and then a little harder. She can tell he likes it from his reactions, but she doesn't want to take it too far, either]
action;
action;
Roll with me.
[She's laughing again, softly, smiling against his skin, her arms around him. It's a surfing term, to get on the same board, on the same wave.]
action;
[He shakes his head at the instruction, propping his free arm under her shoulders in a demi-embrace. Not so much breathing heavily now as struggling to get air past the catch in his throat, he rocks up against her, with her, deeper, hitting new angles and rocking against her clit.]
action;
She just can't stop whimpering against him, and soon she's trembling slightly with the orgasm she can't contain, flush against him, tightening around him]
Re: action;
Saya.
[His voice is all appreciation, and just a touch of the wickedness she described as he continues.]
I mean, Saya Santoso.
[She'll get her own vantage point in a moment, because it's not long before the muscles in his jaw, down his neck to where her hands wrap his shoulders tense sharply, his pace stuttering just a second before he comes.]
action;
Just because it's what it is doesn't mean that Saya will treat it that way.]
Mmmhmm.
action;
Without that safety, there's every chance Chase could get himself in trouble. Later he'll tell himself to make more careful choices.
But now he doesn't think about it, in case regret or longing creep in somewhere they don't belong.
He blinks at her, tugging at a strand of long ago conversation.]
Maybe we can share the bed.
action;
Well if you think I'm letting you move, you're wrong. You're warm.
action;
[It's an affable protest, he's comfortable keeping her right there, even if she will insist on breathing.]
Can't move, anyway. [He exaggerates a sigh.] No energy.
[Or, just enough for his hands to lazily wander.]
action;
[She puts one hand on his hip, and smiles against his neck]
action;
[Lets not rule anything out. For a late starter, Chase doesn't need to regret the loss of his teenage years in terms of stamina. But when it comes to sleep, for once, warm, he's going to rest well.]
Re: action;
Five minutes, huh?
action;
Maybe seven.
: action;
[She drapes one arm over his chest]
action;
Deal.
action;
She's not usually a cuddler but she's not moving. When the light finally filters in the room she keeps her eyes closed. Saya is a predator whose gift is patience. She can wait for him to wake first.]
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
Re: action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;