[ girls, mostly. but it feels like he might be digging himself into yet another hole with that one, since bringing up the complaints of the girls he's been with (plural being two), probably isn't a great way to save this whole awkward experience either.
but whatever he's done, it hasn't seemed to be enough to make her drop out of this whole thing completely, since suddenly he feels the curve of her fingers slide down to his wrist, his eyes falling down to that point of contact for a moment before gazing back up at her. ]
Yeah? You, uh — [ he smiles again, a lopsided thing but more honest this time, with a soft shrug of his shoulder. ] You want me to?
[ she's mimicking him, but not making fun or giving him crap for being vague; honestly, she wasn't sure what kind of way she was feeling about this whole disasterfuck of a situation until he stumbled through accidentally referring to himself as soft and then, for some reason, that sort of unexpectedly did it for her. what can we say? maybe quietly self-deprecating is kind of a turn-on.
she gives him another tug, but it's a loose one, a casual circling of her fingertips around his wrist; she's not trying to yank him in with her and if he wants to take the out, she'll let him turn tail and leave. ]
Yeah. [ it's quieter, more vulnerable than she'd like it to be, and she doesn't think about the fact that her touching him might let her more-buried emotions bleed through the empathy bond; more than anything, she just doesn't want to be alone right now. ] So you comin' in or what?
[ he repeats it again, but this time it's almost with a bit more conviction, smile a little more prominent like he might laugh at it, since the way she picks on him isn't so mean-spirited. he tends to be a bit awkward, but she doesn't seem to be holding that against him too much.
and maybe it's the way she tries to convince him to come in, not forceful, but still honest. if she'd made a mistake with talking to him, she doesn't show it now, and it makes him believe she might actually mean it when she says she wants him to — no, he knows she means it. somehow.
usually, he doesn't mind being alone, but ... he wants that shared company, too, right now. ]
Okay. [ he answers back as quietly as she does, looking at her for a long beat, like he might catch something else in her eyes, but she speaks again and he laughs lightly again, with a nod, stepping into the directed room. ] Sure, right.
[ he might feel it, that flare of uncertainty that travels through the empathy bond — and it's even more obvious now that she's initiated that skin-to-skin contact with her fingers lightly circling his wrist, that self-consciousness that she tries to keep tightly buried beneath inappropriate humor.
because there's a pause between her posing the invite and him finally agreeing to it, and she doesn't know why but she feels relieved more than anything when he accepts it, her hand slipping away from him as they both step into the room and the door quietly slides shut behind them.
but once it's just the two of them, alone here together, not even the sound of anyone else in the distance or right down the hall outside the room, she starts to flounder, not sure what her next move should be; on a sudden impulse, she goes for the first thing that she can think of. ] You, uh — you want a drink, or anything?
[ god, it would be so much easier if they'd already done this once before and she could just throw herself at him. ]
[ he's not expert in this part, especially since it's not really a common occurrence at the end of the world, relationships sprung more from excess adrenaline and the knowledge that you probably won't survive tomorrow. both girls he slept with initiated things first, even more in sarge's case where she quite literally jumped in at the second coming of yet another apocalyptic event.
10k was trained on guns and fishing nets and footprint tracks; charming up a girl was never in his training.
being inside an enclosed space with wynonna doesn't make the experience any easier, suddenly at a loss of what to do with his hands when there's no weapon to clutch to, fingers rubbing back and forth into his palms. ]
Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, I hate for you to waste your liquor on me, but — [ it's a little bit of a joke, lips twisting into a lopsided smile. anything to ease the awkwardness a little. ]
Hey, it's only a waste if you're not gonna drink it.
[ everyone knows that, right? but it gives her something to do for them, and she crosses the room, almost-silent padding on bare feet over the floor until she reaches the small wardrobe where she's been keeping most of her things — including the bottle she keeps squirreled away for moments when she might need it.
moments like this one. ]
Don't have any glasses, sorry.
[ it's half-empty already, but maybe one or two sips will be all the liquid courage she needs (they need). she unscrews the top and takes a firm swig before passing it over to him, lips quirking in amusement. ]
[ hey, he's from the end of the world, so he knows a bit about not letting things go to waste, especially drink or food. he wasn't always the biggest alcoholic drinker (that was murphy) or even much for drug use (doc, of course), but even with the recreational stuff, sometimes you just had to take what you could get.
and with his experience in this ship, there was plenty to be offered, at least with the former.
though he gives a few glances around, his first time being in one of the private rooms considering his more crowded sleeping arrangement, it only takes his attention briefly before it falls back on her, gaze steady as she steps closer to him with bottle in hand. ]
Even if I was, I'd be okay with yours. [ almost instantly, he crinkles his nose with a smile, aware that he probably isn't being a smooth as he hopes to be, but at least he manages to grin at it before he takes the bottle, fingers gently grazing hers before he brings it to his mouth for a drink. the liquid burns a bit in his throat, but he manages it much better than he would have years ago, and when he tilts his head back down, he can feel the tickle of it on his lips, brushing his tongue lightly across it as his eyes meet hers. ]
[ she should probably figure out how much booze they actually have still stashed away sometime, right? because eventually, they might run out, or the dispenser might not be able to replicate anything that even comes halfway close to top-shelf quality. but she also knows she can't afford to be picky.
at least maybe the next planet they stop in could be host to all kinds of stuff she's never even put in her mouth before.
her brows lift and then slide towards each other, an amused smile quirking her lips as she tries to parse through how he meant it — and then figures, given the fact that they're standing in her damn bedroom, he probably only meant it one way.
which is why she doesn't hesitate after she notices that brief swipe of tongue, the silent seconds their gazes meet and hold, before snagging a grip in his shirt, using it to tug him down towards her as she rises up on tiptoe in the same movement, splitting that height difference between them seconds before her mouth presses to his. ]
[ he's never been good at the flirting part, mostly because he doesn't know too much about using his words to make it sound smooth; all he knows is how to say the honest truth, simple as it is, and hopefully that's enough to carry him on through a conversation.
it seems to do something because her eyes are locked on him now, something quiet in the stillness, his own breath held like he might be waiting for the next step, the next sign of what his next move should be. instead, she's the one who does it for them both when she grips at his shirt, and he inhales in the surprise, just before he feels the firm press of her mouth against his own.
he can taste remnants of the liquor there, unsure if it comes from one or both of them, but all he knows is that it paints their lips damp, allowing an easy slide of mouths that he leans down into. he's still got a bottle in one hand, clutching it by the neck; he doesn't know the room well enough to set it down blindly, and neither is he interested in separating his mouth from hers just yet, so he maintains that hold as his free fingers slide against her cheek, dragging back to brush into her hair, cupping her face gently. ]
[ sometimes, she doesn't need words. actually, most of the time she feels like her life would be a lot better if she didn't have them at all, because she wouldn't be able to do the thing where she runs her mouth and gets herself into trouble. sometimes it's just easier to stop talking altogether, because then she's thinking less and can just do instead.
even if she wasn't expecting this, even if she's just kind of rolling with it now, pretending that she always had him in mind when she'd sent the equivalent of a u up text, she's pleasantly surprised by the way the situation's turned out, even more surprised when she kisses him and she feels... something in it. not just the simple press of mouths — although it manages to be both heated and wet with the liquor still gracing both her lips and his — but an altogether new feeling.
later, much later, she might realize it's the empathy bond, that her emotions are traveling through it and hints of his might be ricocheting back to her, but in the current moment she's not dwelling on any of that, not focused on anything, even as she subtly tilts her head into the touch of his hand, the faintest gasp elicited when his fingers thread through her hair just enough to make her scalp tingle, and her hand smooths out its grip on his shirt to palm down his front, sliding around to clutch at his back and draw him flush against her. ]
[ truthfully, since he's been on this ship, he hasn't really had any of this in mind, mostly because of the unease he'd felt in being far from the ground, far from his old life, and far from those he considers family. even not having the frequent presence of something to fight has made him too anxious to think about much else, fingers often fidgeting a bit, even through the night as he lies wide awake in his cot of his communal room.
whether it's the liquor or just being kissed, particularly by someone as gorgeous as her, he feels a better ease in his muscles, tensions loosening as a better confidence moves through him, something in the back of his head telling him to just go for it — possibly the empathy bond, but if that's it, he's not debating it right now.
he can feel the heat of her breath when she gasps from the movement of his fingers, prompting him to curl them a bit more as he brushes his tongue into her mouth, slick and daring now with the push of her fingers at his back. eventually, he takes a chance to let his lips drift, slipping down to her neck, suckling a tender trail down to her collar, using his tangled fingers to urge the tilt of her head. ]
[ she'd felt the tentativeness in the beginning — although whether it had been the product of her own emotions or something lightly circulated between them thanks to the touch that links them together more definitively, she couldn't say. it seems to be dissipating, though, the more and more that they touch, the harder she kisses him and the more he moves to respond in kind, her lips parting for a sound that affords him every opportunity to lightly tease his tongue against hers until the pulsing starts between her legs.
she's not nearly drunk enough to excuse this, let alone her reaction to it, but it all coalesces into something more intense, more heated, and she stops thinking about whether she's even nervous anymore. he's definitely less hesitant to touch her, peeling his mouth away from hers to trail those kisses down the underside of her jaw and over her neck, and she keeps that clutch of fingers on him even while she tilts her head back towards his, baring the line of her throat.
she doesn't want to pump the brakes on this, but she also figures they're headed in only one direction here, and it's why eventually she reaches in to tug the bottle away from his hand, thrusting her arm out from them until she can put it down against the closest surface — a dresser, a table, she's not really looking. she wants her hands free for grabbing at the hem of his shirt and tugging it up over his head, mussing his thick hair in the process. ]
[ it's the getting there that's always the hardest part for him, to use his words to be charming enough that a girl who turn to look in his direction in the first place. he wasn't raised to pick up well enough on the social clues that would steer into a flirtatious exchange, and part of him wonders if they hadn't been in the apocalypse, where choices were at a minimal, if girls like red and sarge would have even formed a genuine interest in him without the push of the world's end.
just like those experiences, even this one is just another accident, one where he just happen to be the wrong guy at the right place at the right time. and maybe that would have been enough to maintain the awkwardness, but now that her mouth is on his, he doesn't feel a bit of that at all.
because once he's gotten past the initiation of it all, he's got a better idea of where to go, of how to kiss, how to touch, how to brush his mouth to the column of a throat and feel the shudder of a needy swallow. the number of girls he's been with might be limited to two, but it's not like he's lacking in the number of nights featuring satisfied results.
once all hands are free, he's urged to lift his own up, letting her tug his shirt free from his body, exposing the more subtle thin lines of muscle beneath. trying not to spare a moment of too much thought, he reaches for hers soon afterwards, giving a pull to her tank top, careful in avoiding tangles with her long waves, dipping in for another catch of her mouth once the fabric is tossed freely to the floor. ]
[ she might think she's more of a smooth talker, but the reality is that alcohol can forgive a lot of sins, and she's definitely used beer goggles as an excuse to throw herself in against someone even when she's not that sure they would normally be her type, whatever that means.
but here and in the moment, she can't use that as a reason for why she just decides to go along with it, to throw herself into the arms of someone she's only ever had one other conversation with. sure, gun to her head, she'd probably say there's something cute about him, and as the layers start to peel off between them that description might even change to whoa, okay — at least if she wasn't so focused on putting her tongue in his mouth.
and he definitely knows how to keep steering things in a mutually beneficial direction too; she barely has a chance to really even glimpse the view of him without a shirt on before he's reaching for her own, and she lifts her arms obligingly, a curious smile on her lips when her loose hair tumbles down past her shoulders and he's already leaning forward to seize her mouth again.
her hand clasps against the nape of his neck, and now she's just walking them back in the direction of her bed — realizing she wants more of a press of bodies now, more hands roaming over skin, even if they still need to strip down the rest of the way, and she turns, pivots them so that his calves hit the edge first before giving him a gentle shove to sit him down there and promptly scrambling into his lap, straddling narrow thighs and bending low to claim yet another kiss. ]
[ if this is all the result of an accident, he finds he can't really complain all too much, convinced that even a lengthy make out like this could almost even be satisfactory if that's all it amounted to. but when his shirt goes, it's the initiation he needs to be confident it could steer further, even if he worries a little that his nerves could inevitably get the best of him. his heart beats harder now too, a usually weak pulse earning a more steady thumping in his chest (even if it'll still take a fair bit of nudging fingers to even catch it).
she coaxes him to move with her, trusting her guidance as he blindly shifts across the room, staying attached to her lips as she keeps him there, breath hot and more urgent now that the evident need for it makes itself known.
he gives a slight grunt as he hits the bed, practically stumbling backwards upon it with her shove, rear giving a slight bounce on the mattress before she slides onto his lap to steady him down with her satisfying weight. instantly, his hands wrap around her, palms flat at the small of her back to reel her in close, his mouth breathless at her lips before he dips to trail those kisses along the curve of her jaw. ]
[ maybe she's less qualified to really be able to sense all the obvious indicators of life beneath her fingertips; he's warm and willing enough, and in the end, that might be the only thing that matters, the only thing she's really caught up with in terms of using him to scratch an itch — at least, that's how she'll justify it to herself after, by the time they're both panting side-by-side.
she's prepared, almost hoping for him to let her take the lead here, to be okay with her just pinning him down into the mattress and steering them in the direction she wants to be in — but when he puts hands on her, an unexpectedly wide spread of fingers across the curve of her back, it's warm on her skin and she arches into him before she can stop herself, fingers sliding up and into the thick tufts of his hair as he drops his mouth to the edge of her jawline.
and for a second she forgets that she wants to hurry this along, wants to skip right ahead to the good stuff; she just rocks down and against him instead, breathes a sigh, and dips her head back enough to wordlessly encourage him to keep going as far as putting his mouth on her goes, wanting to feel the heated presses there down the curve of her neck and the hollow of her throat, the plane of her chest leadingn down to the swells of her breasts beneath her bra. ]
[ he's running on instincts here, following where his lips take him and, more importantly, where she urges him to go. he's never been an expert at this, not at sex and especially not at beaming with confidence when it comes to steering it along. but at the very least, he's good at giving things plenty of attention.
because he's definitely good at listening; she may not be the breeze of the woods, leaving hints of tracks and pathways with birdsong, but he can hear the way she breathes, his head tilted just enough for his ear to hover close to her chest, the beat of her heart urging him on. it's that which he guides himself on, to follow on what she likes.
and when she stretches back her neck, arching with an invitation to her chest, he can't deny the intent to descend further, open mouthed kisses painting trails along the lines of her collar, soft pale skin tasting sweet on his lips. giving a slow tug to her bra strap, he glides it down her arm but doesn't proceed beyond that, just giving himself enough room to bring his mouth to the height of her breast, suckling gently at the softer skin there peeking out from behind the cup. ]
[ at some point, it always stops being about needing to make it look good anyway; all that matters now is what feels good, and right now, to her own surprise, somehow everything they've stumbled into is existing right in that space between good and fucking great.
really, the biggest sign he should have that she's liking what he's doing is the fact that he's managed to rob her of her words, because any time she's running her mouth off it's a big sign that she's not distracted enough by what's going on and just starts to feel the compulsion to fill what she perceives as an awkward silence.
but here, there's nothing but gasps to guide him, hitches in her breathing, and she tilts her chin down just enough because she wants to watch his mouth traversing her skin with those slow and eager kisses, the surprising fullness of his lips parting against the rise of her breast. without saying anything at all, she reaches behind herself to fiddle with the clasp before the sides give way across her back, and when she slips the bra away from her form, plucks it away and lets it drop somewhere sight unseen, there's tacit permission in that single action for him to touch and kiss as much of her as he wants to, her hands smoothing up the lithe lengths of his arms because she likes the feeling of skin under her fingers just as much. ]
[ the lack of conversation might be good for his sake, mostly because he's never been all too good at speech in the first place and if she tried to ease him towards enacting some sexy talk, he'd inevitably trip all over himself, nervousness rolling into an enlarged ball of awkwardness, ready to blow the entire thing into a disaster.
but he's comfortable with the signals he is receiving, turned on a bit just by the way she breathes, that he's somehow prompted those noises from her mouth, exciting him towards hearing more of them as he selfishly enjoys the taste of her skin against his lips.
momentarily distracted with his own task, he doesn't immediately notice the removal of her bra until he feels the shift of her arms and the peeling of that fabric before it's discarded freely to the ground, left to the full form of her breasts right before his face, with the evident invitation that he's welcome to keep going. rather than let himself overthink his steps, he moves on his instincts, on what her breathes tell him, on what his body desires, and he reaches up to cup one in his palm, giving it a light massage, feeling that pleasant swell beneath his hold before he presses his thumb to the skin beneath her nipple, tipping it upward so he can better catch it between his lips, lapping it with a firm tongue. ]
[ it really doesn't even matter why neither of them is talking right now, because she's also learned that the second she opens her mouth therein lies the potential for disaster, for something so obviously fumbled that she's not sure she can always pick it up and recover (or whatever bad sports metaphor she's trying to come up with). better to just avoid it altogether, and besides, she can think of something better for his mouth to do.
the good news is she doesn't need to tell him that; whether he's done this plenty before or not (a subject she isn't going to get into now of all times), some things are just instinctual, and the fact that she's all but shoving her chest in his face is an easy enough signal for him to pick up on.
what she isn't prepared for is her reaction to it, the way he bends low to meet her and then parts his lips for his tongue to basically give that sensitive peak a lashing; her knees tighten at his hips and she arches, breathing a gasp overhead as her fingers slide up and into his dark hair. he has no way of knowing that he's stumbled across a livewire of sensitivity that's going to make the ache between her legs even more intense, but her response might make that plenty obvious, not to mention the blatant rocking of her hips as she drops her weight against him for that added friction. ]
[ sometimes, there comes a bit of a debate in his head on what to do or where to go next when it comes to sex, occasionally overwhelmed by so much naked skin and the escalating arousal quickening the pumping of his blood, with a distracting pounding of his heart beating surprisingly hard within his chest (considering how hard it's become to hear it otherwise since his brief meeting with death).
but he's thankful for how easy she makes it, how she's guiding him along in a way that isn't necessarily so step by step as to make him feel like an idiot, but just enough to send out the signals of what she wants, what lights her up on the inside.
because while he knows he needs to get his mouth on her breast, it's the tell tale signals that come afterwards that really pull him along — the curving arch of her chest, the grasping fingers to his hair strands, the clamping grip of her body at his hips. neither wanting to disappoint her after getting all of that nor wanting to sacrifice the taste of her skin on his lips, he nudges his mouth more firmly on the soft mound, continuing to suck on the tender bud, the wet press of his tongue massaging to coax that quickened breath.
reaching down, he grips for her hips, not to stop them from moving — no way in hell he'd do that now — but to feel that rocking shift, that grinding contact, making it all the more obvious in pinpointing the hard line of his stiffening erection. ]
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[ girls, mostly. but it feels like he might be digging himself into yet another hole with that one, since bringing up the complaints of the girls he's been with (plural being two), probably isn't a great way to save this whole awkward experience either.
but whatever he's done, it hasn't seemed to be enough to make her drop out of this whole thing completely, since suddenly he feels the curve of her fingers slide down to his wrist, his eyes falling down to that point of contact for a moment before gazing back up at her. ]
Yeah? You, uh — [ he smiles again, a lopsided thing but more honest this time, with a soft shrug of his shoulder. ] You want me to?
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[ she's mimicking him, but not making fun or giving him crap for being vague; honestly, she wasn't sure what kind of way she was feeling about this whole disasterfuck of a situation until he stumbled through accidentally referring to himself as soft and then, for some reason, that sort of unexpectedly did it for her. what can we say? maybe quietly self-deprecating is kind of a turn-on.
she gives him another tug, but it's a loose one, a casual circling of her fingertips around his wrist; she's not trying to yank him in with her and if he wants to take the out, she'll let him turn tail and leave. ]
Yeah. [ it's quieter, more vulnerable than she'd like it to be, and she doesn't think about the fact that her touching him might let her more-buried emotions bleed through the empathy bond; more than anything, she just doesn't want to be alone right now. ] So you comin' in or what?
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[ he repeats it again, but this time it's almost with a bit more conviction, smile a little more prominent like he might laugh at it, since the way she picks on him isn't so mean-spirited. he tends to be a bit awkward, but she doesn't seem to be holding that against him too much.
and maybe it's the way she tries to convince him to come in, not forceful, but still honest. if she'd made a mistake with talking to him, she doesn't show it now, and it makes him believe she might actually mean it when she says she wants him to — no, he knows she means it. somehow.
usually, he doesn't mind being alone, but ... he wants that shared company, too, right now. ]
Okay. [ he answers back as quietly as she does, looking at her for a long beat, like he might catch something else in her eyes, but she speaks again and he laughs lightly again, with a nod, stepping into the directed room. ] Sure, right.
no subject
because there's a pause between her posing the invite and him finally agreeing to it, and she doesn't know why but she feels relieved more than anything when he accepts it, her hand slipping away from him as they both step into the room and the door quietly slides shut behind them.
but once it's just the two of them, alone here together, not even the sound of anyone else in the distance or right down the hall outside the room, she starts to flounder, not sure what her next move should be; on a sudden impulse, she goes for the first thing that she can think of. ] You, uh — you want a drink, or anything?
[ god, it would be so much easier if they'd already done this once before and she could just throw herself at him. ]
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10k was trained on guns and fishing nets and footprint tracks; charming up a girl was never in his training.
being inside an enclosed space with wynonna doesn't make the experience any easier, suddenly at a loss of what to do with his hands when there's no weapon to clutch to, fingers rubbing back and forth into his palms. ]
Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, I hate for you to waste your liquor on me, but — [ it's a little bit of a joke, lips twisting into a lopsided smile. anything to ease the awkwardness a little. ]
no subject
[ everyone knows that, right? but it gives her something to do for them, and she crosses the room, almost-silent padding on bare feet over the floor until she reaches the small wardrobe where she's been keeping most of her things — including the bottle she keeps squirreled away for moments when she might need it.
moments like this one. ]
Don't have any glasses, sorry.
[ it's half-empty already, but maybe one or two sips will be all the liquid courage she needs (they need). she unscrews the top and takes a firm swig before passing it over to him, lips quirking in amusement. ]
Unless you're suddenly worried about cooties.
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[ hey, he's from the end of the world, so he knows a bit about not letting things go to waste, especially drink or food. he wasn't always the biggest alcoholic drinker (that was murphy) or even much for drug use (doc, of course), but even with the recreational stuff, sometimes you just had to take what you could get.
and with his experience in this ship, there was plenty to be offered, at least with the former.
though he gives a few glances around, his first time being in one of the private rooms considering his more crowded sleeping arrangement, it only takes his attention briefly before it falls back on her, gaze steady as she steps closer to him with bottle in hand. ]
Even if I was, I'd be okay with yours. [ almost instantly, he crinkles his nose with a smile, aware that he probably isn't being a smooth as he hopes to be, but at least he manages to grin at it before he takes the bottle, fingers gently grazing hers before he brings it to his mouth for a drink. the liquid burns a bit in his throat, but he manages it much better than he would have years ago, and when he tilts his head back down, he can feel the tickle of it on his lips, brushing his tongue lightly across it as his eyes meet hers. ]
no subject
[ she should probably figure out how much booze they actually have still stashed away sometime, right? because eventually, they might run out, or the dispenser might not be able to replicate anything that even comes halfway close to top-shelf quality. but she also knows she can't afford to be picky.
at least maybe the next planet they stop in could be host to all kinds of stuff she's never even put in her mouth before.
her brows lift and then slide towards each other, an amused smile quirking her lips as she tries to parse through how he meant it — and then figures, given the fact that they're standing in her damn bedroom, he probably only meant it one way.
which is why she doesn't hesitate after she notices that brief swipe of tongue, the silent seconds their gazes meet and hold, before snagging a grip in his shirt, using it to tug him down towards her as she rises up on tiptoe in the same movement, splitting that height difference between them seconds before her mouth presses to his. ]
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it seems to do something because her eyes are locked on him now, something quiet in the stillness, his own breath held like he might be waiting for the next step, the next sign of what his next move should be. instead, she's the one who does it for them both when she grips at his shirt, and he inhales in the surprise, just before he feels the firm press of her mouth against his own.
he can taste remnants of the liquor there, unsure if it comes from one or both of them, but all he knows is that it paints their lips damp, allowing an easy slide of mouths that he leans down into. he's still got a bottle in one hand, clutching it by the neck; he doesn't know the room well enough to set it down blindly, and neither is he interested in separating his mouth from hers just yet, so he maintains that hold as his free fingers slide against her cheek, dragging back to brush into her hair, cupping her face gently. ]
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even if she wasn't expecting this, even if she's just kind of rolling with it now, pretending that she always had him in mind when she'd sent the equivalent of a u up text, she's pleasantly surprised by the way the situation's turned out, even more surprised when she kisses him and she feels... something in it. not just the simple press of mouths — although it manages to be both heated and wet with the liquor still gracing both her lips and his — but an altogether new feeling.
later, much later, she might realize it's the empathy bond, that her emotions are traveling through it and hints of his might be ricocheting back to her, but in the current moment she's not dwelling on any of that, not focused on anything, even as she subtly tilts her head into the touch of his hand, the faintest gasp elicited when his fingers thread through her hair just enough to make her scalp tingle, and her hand smooths out its grip on his shirt to palm down his front, sliding around to clutch at his back and draw him flush against her. ]
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whether it's the liquor or just being kissed, particularly by someone as gorgeous as her, he feels a better ease in his muscles, tensions loosening as a better confidence moves through him, something in the back of his head telling him to just go for it — possibly the empathy bond, but if that's it, he's not debating it right now.
he can feel the heat of her breath when she gasps from the movement of his fingers, prompting him to curl them a bit more as he brushes his tongue into her mouth, slick and daring now with the push of her fingers at his back. eventually, he takes a chance to let his lips drift, slipping down to her neck, suckling a tender trail down to her collar, using his tangled fingers to urge the tilt of her head. ]
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she's not nearly drunk enough to excuse this, let alone her reaction to it, but it all coalesces into something more intense, more heated, and she stops thinking about whether she's even nervous anymore. he's definitely less hesitant to touch her, peeling his mouth away from hers to trail those kisses down the underside of her jaw and over her neck, and she keeps that clutch of fingers on him even while she tilts her head back towards his, baring the line of her throat.
she doesn't want to pump the brakes on this, but she also figures they're headed in only one direction here, and it's why eventually she reaches in to tug the bottle away from his hand, thrusting her arm out from them until she can put it down against the closest surface — a dresser, a table, she's not really looking. she wants her hands free for grabbing at the hem of his shirt and tugging it up over his head, mussing his thick hair in the process. ]
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just like those experiences, even this one is just another accident, one where he just happen to be the wrong guy at the right place at the right time. and maybe that would have been enough to maintain the awkwardness, but now that her mouth is on his, he doesn't feel a bit of that at all.
because once he's gotten past the initiation of it all, he's got a better idea of where to go, of how to kiss, how to touch, how to brush his mouth to the column of a throat and feel the shudder of a needy swallow. the number of girls he's been with might be limited to two, but it's not like he's lacking in the number of nights featuring satisfied results.
once all hands are free, he's urged to lift his own up, letting her tug his shirt free from his body, exposing the more subtle thin lines of muscle beneath. trying not to spare a moment of too much thought, he reaches for hers soon afterwards, giving a pull to her tank top, careful in avoiding tangles with her long waves, dipping in for another catch of her mouth once the fabric is tossed freely to the floor. ]
slides back in 1000 years later
but here and in the moment, she can't use that as a reason for why she just decides to go along with it, to throw herself into the arms of someone she's only ever had one other conversation with. sure, gun to her head, she'd probably say there's something cute about him, and as the layers start to peel off between them that description might even change to whoa, okay — at least if she wasn't so focused on putting her tongue in his mouth.
and he definitely knows how to keep steering things in a mutually beneficial direction too; she barely has a chance to really even glimpse the view of him without a shirt on before he's reaching for her own, and she lifts her arms obligingly, a curious smile on her lips when her loose hair tumbles down past her shoulders and he's already leaning forward to seize her mouth again.
her hand clasps against the nape of his neck, and now she's just walking them back in the direction of her bed — realizing she wants more of a press of bodies now, more hands roaming over skin, even if they still need to strip down the rest of the way, and she turns, pivots them so that his calves hit the edge first before giving him a gentle shove to sit him down there and promptly scrambling into his lap, straddling narrow thighs and bending low to claim yet another kiss. ]
welcomes you back with weak wrinkly aged arms
she coaxes him to move with her, trusting her guidance as he blindly shifts across the room, staying attached to her lips as she keeps him there, breath hot and more urgent now that the evident need for it makes itself known.
he gives a slight grunt as he hits the bed, practically stumbling backwards upon it with her shove, rear giving a slight bounce on the mattress before she slides onto his lap to steady him down with her satisfying weight. instantly, his hands wrap around her, palms flat at the small of her back to reel her in close, his mouth breathless at her lips before he dips to trail those kisses along the curve of her jaw. ]
no subject
she's prepared, almost hoping for him to let her take the lead here, to be okay with her just pinning him down into the mattress and steering them in the direction she wants to be in — but when he puts hands on her, an unexpectedly wide spread of fingers across the curve of her back, it's warm on her skin and she arches into him before she can stop herself, fingers sliding up and into the thick tufts of his hair as he drops his mouth to the edge of her jawline.
and for a second she forgets that she wants to hurry this along, wants to skip right ahead to the good stuff; she just rocks down and against him instead, breathes a sigh, and dips her head back enough to wordlessly encourage him to keep going as far as putting his mouth on her goes, wanting to feel the heated presses there down the curve of her neck and the hollow of her throat, the plane of her chest leadingn down to the swells of her breasts beneath her bra. ]
no subject
because he's definitely good at listening; she may not be the breeze of the woods, leaving hints of tracks and pathways with birdsong, but he can hear the way she breathes, his head tilted just enough for his ear to hover close to her chest, the beat of her heart urging him on. it's that which he guides himself on, to follow on what she likes.
and when she stretches back her neck, arching with an invitation to her chest, he can't deny the intent to descend further, open mouthed kisses painting trails along the lines of her collar, soft pale skin tasting sweet on his lips. giving a slow tug to her bra strap, he glides it down her arm but doesn't proceed beyond that, just giving himself enough room to bring his mouth to the height of her breast, suckling gently at the softer skin there peeking out from behind the cup. ]
no subject
really, the biggest sign he should have that she's liking what he's doing is the fact that he's managed to rob her of her words, because any time she's running her mouth off it's a big sign that she's not distracted enough by what's going on and just starts to feel the compulsion to fill what she perceives as an awkward silence.
but here, there's nothing but gasps to guide him, hitches in her breathing, and she tilts her chin down just enough because she wants to watch his mouth traversing her skin with those slow and eager kisses, the surprising fullness of his lips parting against the rise of her breast. without saying anything at all, she reaches behind herself to fiddle with the clasp before the sides give way across her back, and when she slips the bra away from her form, plucks it away and lets it drop somewhere sight unseen, there's tacit permission in that single action for him to touch and kiss as much of her as he wants to, her hands smoothing up the lithe lengths of his arms because she likes the feeling of skin under her fingers just as much. ]
no subject
but he's comfortable with the signals he is receiving, turned on a bit just by the way she breathes, that he's somehow prompted those noises from her mouth, exciting him towards hearing more of them as he selfishly enjoys the taste of her skin against his lips.
momentarily distracted with his own task, he doesn't immediately notice the removal of her bra until he feels the shift of her arms and the peeling of that fabric before it's discarded freely to the ground, left to the full form of her breasts right before his face, with the evident invitation that he's welcome to keep going. rather than let himself overthink his steps, he moves on his instincts, on what her breathes tell him, on what his body desires, and he reaches up to cup one in his palm, giving it a light massage, feeling that pleasant swell beneath his hold before he presses his thumb to the skin beneath her nipple, tipping it upward so he can better catch it between his lips, lapping it with a firm tongue. ]
no subject
the good news is she doesn't need to tell him that; whether he's done this plenty before or not (a subject she isn't going to get into now of all times), some things are just instinctual, and the fact that she's all but shoving her chest in his face is an easy enough signal for him to pick up on.
what she isn't prepared for is her reaction to it, the way he bends low to meet her and then parts his lips for his tongue to basically give that sensitive peak a lashing; her knees tighten at his hips and she arches, breathing a gasp overhead as her fingers slide up and into his dark hair. he has no way of knowing that he's stumbled across a livewire of sensitivity that's going to make the ache between her legs even more intense, but her response might make that plenty obvious, not to mention the blatant rocking of her hips as she drops her weight against him for that added friction. ]
no subject
but he's thankful for how easy she makes it, how she's guiding him along in a way that isn't necessarily so step by step as to make him feel like an idiot, but just enough to send out the signals of what she wants, what lights her up on the inside.
because while he knows he needs to get his mouth on her breast, it's the tell tale signals that come afterwards that really pull him along — the curving arch of her chest, the grasping fingers to his hair strands, the clamping grip of her body at his hips. neither wanting to disappoint her after getting all of that nor wanting to sacrifice the taste of her skin on his lips, he nudges his mouth more firmly on the soft mound, continuing to suck on the tender bud, the wet press of his tongue massaging to coax that quickened breath.
reaching down, he grips for her hips, not to stop them from moving — no way in hell he'd do that now — but to feel that rocking shift, that grinding contact, making it all the more obvious in pinpointing the hard line of his stiffening erection. ]