continuations

[unbr8kable]

from other threads

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[crossmyheartandhope]

[There isn't much of a complaint, when she pulls away - but his breath catches on a whimper, and his hips chase after her, before he can stop himself]

[When she returns her hand, he shudders with relief, pressing up into it; as though to add to the slickness, a drop of clear moisture has welled up at the tip, spilling over to track its way down the length. His hands, as though not quite sure what to do with themselves, reach to settle at her waist, tracing the outline of her through the shirt]

M-man. Those poor gloves.

[unbr8kable]

[So helpful. Her fingers gather the slickness, putting it to good use before the silky fabric over her palms gets too sodden. The brush of lace can only come along for the ride, and she watches his expression to see if it seems to be a welcome addition--at least when she isn't distracted working on a mark just under his collarbone]

...Guess putting 'em back would be bad form?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[Judging by his expression, the lace is certainly not a bad thing; he shudders hard whenever it catches against the tip, hips rocking restlessly as though to chase after the sensation]

[Possibly the silky feel of the gloves themselves isn't a bad thing, either, judging by how quickly his breathing has grown ragged]

K-kinda gotta take em home, now.

[unbr8kable]

May as well put 'em to good use, then.

[She pinches the excess lace between pinky finger and thumb, pulling the lace just taut enough to feel more present as it runs over him, especially as counterpoint to her warm skin and the slick fabric.

Her free hand clamps to his hip mostly to hold him steady, thumb brushing an easy back and forth over the jut of his hipbone as he rocks against her]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He groans when she pulls the lace taut, soft and wavering - gasps, hands running shaky up and down her sides from hip to ribs and then back again]

Oh my god, dude. That's -

[The hand on his hip certainly has its work cut out for it, if it's trying to steady him; it judders forward hard, pressing into the warmth of her touch and the silky fabric both]

[unbr8kable]

Not bad?

[She doesn't attempt to immobilize him or anything, but--save for the steady pump of her good hand--she stays mostly still, apparently more interested in watching and hearing and feeling him squirm than anything]

[crossmyheartandhope]

S'real - real good.

[He gasps again, on the upstroke - tries to stifle a moan, and isn't entirely successful. If she's in it for the way he squirms, there's definitely plenty to see; the flush has spread down to his chest, by now, and he shivers and shakes on the upstrokes, every time the lace catches at the underside of the head]

[unbr8kable]

Real real good...that sounds like an endorsement. That why you wanted me to wear these in the first place?

[She edges up the pace, somehow catching his head with the lace more often than not. From historical trends at the least he can surely infer that she's interested in getting more of those moans, stifled or not--she chances dragging the ridge of her thumbnail down his frenulum on the downstroke, light, blunt pressure]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[His cheeks flush darker at the question, and his eyes go wide]

Wh-what? I wasn't thinking about -

[What he was thinking about doesn't end up getting said. Instead, the sound she gets in response to the blunt pressure against his frenulum is more like a muffled curse, and his hips jolt forward into the pressure hard as he bites down on his lip. Another generous drop of moisture has gathered at the tip, to begin the slow, trickling path down the length of him]

[unbr8kable]

Interesting...

[And her gaze flicks obviously from his face to the obvious surge of interest. Her voice stays casual if slightly breathy, but the lace stays pulled taut, scratchy against his length. At the end, she twists her grip around him; twists it back, lacy grip firm around the ridge of his head]

So you picked all this excessive lacy stuff just on coincidence? Sounds suspicious.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[The first twist drags a noise from him that's remarkably like a whimper; the second earns an outright whine, accompanied by a full-body shudder]

[His mouth falls open, and his eyelids shiver closed; the hands at her sides take fistfuls of her shirt, as though to ground him]

It ain't - it ain't suspicious, I just -

Th-thought it'd look good.

[unbr8kable]

[Seems like the experiment was a success, though like any good scientist, she attempts to recreate her results a few times to make sure it was not a fluke]

Thought it'd look good against your dick?

[Her free hand finally moves, sliding up his body to flick over his bare nipple. At length she tears herself away from the scrunch of his eyes and the pink of his mouth to leans in, breath washing over his ear]

I mean. You're right. So don't think I'm complaining. Dressing you up was the whole point, right?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[It seems like the results of this experiment are remarkably consistent; each twist draws a shuddering breath, or a whimper, or a gasp. His hips judder forward, attempting instinctively to push him more fully into her hold. The tip is suspiciously damp again, along with the fabric of her gloves]

That - I - I mean - I wasn't thinking about -

[And that's about when her fingers find his nipple, and he jolts at the touch - flushes crimson at the rest of her words - licks at his lips, trying to catch his breath]

I - I guess? Probly.

[unbr8kable]

[Theory proven, she moves to putting those learnings to good use, switching up the pressure and route of her hand, the amount of contact, the light scrape of her thumbnail over his length. He's wet enough by now that the drag of the fabric has begun to take on some weight of its own, though she doesn't slow--more the opposite]

You "guess"?

[Snorts indelicately, grazing teeth over his earlobe]

Maybe just 'cause you ain't wearing clothes now don't mean I don't like dressing you up. Maybe I been thinking about having you in a place like this for a while.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He moans again, long and low - at the words, perhaps, or the motions of her hand, or the way she's finally beginning to speed her pace to something more than a tease. He's flushed too dark to truly qualify as shameless, but he's not making any effort now to still the way his hips press him forward for more]

J-jesus. That's -

[A protracted shudder, as she grazes his ear]

That's - d-did you for real?

[unbr8kable]

[Her ears go hot, though if anything she follows his lead, speeding up as he does]

W-well. We got that book that one time, so makes sense, don't it...?

I-I mean. Didn't you?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[A soft whine, as she begins to speed up. He bites at his lip, and can't quite seem to meet her gaze. The blush has reached his ears; in her hand, his cock gives a hard twitch, a fresh trickle of precome damping the fabric of her gloves]

I, uh. Yeah. M-me, too.

I like. I kept that one. Th-thought about it, some.

[unbr8kable]

Oh yeah?

[Her face is warm as she nips at the crook of his neck, warmer than the satin and metal over his chest and even the sure grip at his cock--which abruptly releases as she stands up straight]

...Then I guess we should call it here, right? No way you're interested in these distractions.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He fails entirely at tamping down on the whimper when she lets him go; his hips judder forward, chasing the touch and pressing him into nothing but empty air. Between them, his cock looks almost painfully hard; it twitches again as she watches, another droplet of moisture tracing its slow way down the length of him]

X-Xia...

[unbr8kable]

[She smiles beatifically, prosthetic brushing down to his waist before pulling away there, too]

Need something?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He shivers at the touch of her prosthetic, not at all where he needs it - at her smile, and the tone of her voice. His cock twitches again, hard, and he shifts from one foot to the other]

Not... need.

[Another shift, not quite outright squirming, but not far off]

I mean, s'like you said. Dressing up's the whole point, right? S-so.

[unbr8kable]

Of course! You prolly been waiting for me this whole time, you could've just said something.

[She brushes past him, lacy sleeves somehow brushing low over his front as she passes]

Lucky for you, I got something I think you'll like. Take this?

[For now, all she offers is her palm--from the shake of it, indicating the damp glove]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He shudders at the brush of her sleeve, that too-light touch just a hint of what she's taken away - bites down on his lip, and doesn't quite manage to not rock forward, chasing after the touch]

[When even that small contact is gone, he shifts from one foot to the other again - shivers, and reaches out to take her glove when she offers it]

R-right. Lemme, uh - lemme get that.

[He eases it off with as much care as he used to put it on, though his hands are decidedly less steady, this time]

[unbr8kable]

[How the turntables have turned. She watches him greedily as ever, eyes catching on each shift and shiver. Her grin is Cheshire-broad]

You gonna make sure they're clean, too?

[She waggles her fingers again]

[crossmyheartandhope]

U-uh. Yeah. I can - yeah.

[He shifts again - flushes, dark, and takes a tentative step nearer, taking her hand in both of his own]

[He starts with her palm, gentle kitten-laps of his tongue - works over the whole of it before turning his attention to the first finger. It gets the same attention, soft little flicks of the tongue all the way to the tip; when he gets there, he shifts again, restless, as he parts his lips and takes it inside]