[Citation needed. Her slacks are definitely on the warmer and damper side the farther north he travels, sticking to the skin of her thigh as he presses in]
[The smile takes on a decidedly mischievous tone, when he discovers that even her thighs are damp. His hand continues the rest of the way up, tracing the seam on her slacks right up to the center, between her legs, where he rubs absently with just one finger]
[Even this is mostly breathless, and she preemptively lifts up in case he wanted to take less time and slide her pants off altogether. She also flicks at his nipples, though whether to make a point or just because they're there is even odds]
[Her panties are long soaked through, and when he brushes over the soft warmth inside, his fingers come away wet. Compared to so long in her thick pants, his fingers feel much closer like this. If she'd had more to say, it's lost in a wavery sigh as she attempts to pull those fingers more firmly against her, rolling into his solid thigh]
[His eyes go half-lidded, as he watches the way she moves; this thumb flicks over that sensitive little numb at the front, light through the panties, to see if he can get a repeat performance]
[The scoff is perhaps more distracted than intended, especially as her hips chase after that not-quite-firm brush of his thumb. If there's ever been a time he did not earn a repeat performance, it's not today. Her expression can't even pass for dismissive, the sweep of her lashes and bite at her lip falling much closer to needy instead.
Left to their own devices, her own hands trail over his chest and sides and--well, only one leg since her own are locked around the other, but she runs from his hip to her own and that's close?]
For real. I like how you get all flushed, and, like - when you bite your lip like that. I love it when you look like you're getting into it.
You sound real pretty, too.
[The brush of his thumb is less light, this time, as though trying to coax one of those noises out - a firm circle, and then a second, and then a third, rubbing the wet fabric of her panties against her clit]
[Her ears go hot as everything he just called out intensifies. But what choice does she have? How can she not get lost in the firm swirl of his thumb over her clit, or the playful lilt of his voice, or the pink of his chest, still speckled with the evidence of his own pleasure?
What else would she do but sink her teeth into her lower lip, hoping the sharp pain might ground her, somehow? Her grip tightens on his sides, just enough to be present--just enough to encourage him to stay in place.
How can she not blush at him saying she's worth looking at in the first place, tone gentle enough that he might even mean it?
[He leaves off circling with his thumb - pulls away entirely, and then traces his fingers straight up the center of the panties, a slow exploration, touch barely there. When he finishes, he rubs his fingers together, marveling at how wet they are]
...jesus. Look at the mess you made.
[He sounds a little awed, frankly - traces the same path again, slower still, before he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of her panties]
[He flushes, at the thought that she got like this by watching him - ducks his head a little, even as he begins working the panties down]
Guess so.
[When she's finally free of them, his fingers trail up the inside of her thighs, where they're sticky - trace over the senstitive skin there for a long moment, teasing]
[Her cheeks go even darker, but she doesn't hesitate to lift up so he can work the sodden fabric down her hips and out of the way. She hesitates even less to move back into his easy reach, pulse jumping under his fingers as he skims over the sensitive flesh of her thighs.
The teasing prompts another small whine, but rather than get into it, she pulls up her previous bravado, though more certainly more breathlessly wanting than before]
I--I want you to take responsibility.
You tented that little skirt all afternoon--felt you squirm and grind and make lewd noises and mince around bare assed, and all I could do was watch. That--that was a lot of hard work, y'know?
[Her hands run up his thighs and squeeze, perhaps encouraging]
[His cheeks go dark, when she calls him out like that; he flushes all the way to his ears, glancing away and then immediately back again, like he can't quite bear to look away from the sight in front of him]
Yeah. That's - that sounds like a lot of work, alright.
[He's a little breathless, as he lets his fingers skim higher - as one traces between her lips and then reaches further back, to press inward. The other hand comes up, careful, to rest two fingers against the hood of her clit, beginning to rub softly from side to side]
[Eager enough that it's hard to tell if it's an answer to his question or just reaction to his touch. Her eyes fall shut as she rolls into his fingers, her own hands digging in more tightly to his hips]
[The finger between her legs eases up and in, until it's all the way buried - withdraws again, and then returns, establishing a rhythm that's steady but probably still too slow]
[The other hand keeps the same pace, that soft, insistent rubbing falling unconsciously in time with the thrusts]
[Even wet as she is it takes her some moments to adjust to the stretch of his finger, and she gives a wordless groan as he presses in. For once she doesn't rush his pace, eyes squeezed shut and chest heaving at all the stimulation after so long without.
It's a few of those long, deliberate strokes before she recalls she's been spoken to--before she can put together a breathless response]
[Even as she maintains the gentle rocking into his hands, she curls against him in turn, pressing a damp kiss to the crook of his shoulder as her arms wind around his back]
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[This is said with a smile, however, and she kisses his shoulder even as she wipes her hand on his hip]
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[His hand makes a slow circuit again - trails up the inside of her thigh, this time]
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[Citation needed. Her slacks are definitely on the warmer and damper side the farther north he travels, sticking to the skin of her thigh as he presses in]
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[The smile takes on a decidedly mischievous tone, when he discovers that even her thighs are damp. His hand continues the rest of the way up, tracing the seam on her slacks right up to the center, between her legs, where he rubs absently with just one finger]
There ain't nothing you wanna do?
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Didn't say that.
But if you're tired... The idea of making you come so hard you gotta take a nap ain't bad, neither.
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I mean... pretty sure I'm gonna have to take a nap.
[He shifts his hand, so that the palm is pressed up firm against her - makes slow circles]
That don't mean I can't make you feel good, first.
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[This is apparently a fairly powerful argument. She rocks back against him another beat or two to consider it, hands warm against his chest]
Guess we could nap together, if you wanted...
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[He withdraws his palm again - reaches out to draw her nearer, so that she's straddling his thigh]
[Then he undoes the button on her slacks, taking his time with the zipper]
Guess I better knock you out, too, huh?
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[Even this is mostly breathless, and she preemptively lifts up in case he wanted to take less time and slide her pants off altogether. She also flicks at his nipples, though whether to make a point or just because they're there is even odds]
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[He shivers, a little, at her touch - retaliates by sliding her pants down over her hips]
[He leaves the underwear, for now - reaches in to feel her through them, tracing the shape of her with light fingertips]
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[Her panties are long soaked through, and when he brushes over the soft warmth inside, his fingers come away wet. Compared to so long in her thick pants, his fingers feel much closer like this. If she'd had more to say, it's lost in a wavery sigh as she attempts to pull those fingers more firmly against her, rolling into his solid thigh]
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God, look at you. You're so pretty like this.
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[The scoff is perhaps more distracted than intended, especially as her hips chase after that not-quite-firm brush of his thumb. If there's ever been a time he did not earn a repeat performance, it's not today. Her expression can't even pass for dismissive, the sweep of her lashes and bite at her lip falling much closer to needy instead.
Left to their own devices, her own hands trail over his chest and sides and--well, only one leg since her own are locked around the other, but she runs from his hip to her own and that's close?]
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You sound real pretty, too.
[The brush of his thumb is less light, this time, as though trying to coax one of those noises out - a firm circle, and then a second, and then a third, rubbing the wet fabric of her panties against her clit]
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[Her ears go hot as everything he just called out intensifies. But what choice does she have? How can she not get lost in the firm swirl of his thumb over her clit, or the playful lilt of his voice, or the pink of his chest, still speckled with the evidence of his own pleasure?
What else would she do but sink her teeth into her lower lip, hoping the sharp pain might ground her, somehow? Her grip tightens on his sides, just enough to be present--just enough to encourage him to stay in place.
How can she not blush at him saying she's worth looking at in the first place, tone gentle enough that he might even mean it?
So it's all his fault in the end, right?]
Jacob...
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...jesus. Look at the mess you made.
[He sounds a little awed, frankly - traces the same path again, slower still, before he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of her panties]
You want out of these?
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Yeah--yeah, I want. Watching you was a lot...
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Guess so.
[When she's finally free of them, his fingers trail up the inside of her thighs, where they're sticky - trace over the senstitive skin there for a long moment, teasing]
You gonna tell me what else you want?
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The teasing prompts another small whine, but rather than get into it, she pulls up her previous bravado, though more certainly more breathlessly wanting than before]
I--I want you to take responsibility.
You tented that little skirt all afternoon--felt you squirm and grind and make lewd noises and mince around bare assed, and all I could do was watch. That--that was a lot of hard work, y'know?
[Her hands run up his thighs and squeeze, perhaps encouraging]
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Yeah. That's - that sounds like a lot of work, alright.
[He's a little breathless, as he lets his fingers skim higher - as one traces between her lips and then reaches further back, to press inward. The other hand comes up, careful, to rest two fingers against the hood of her clit, beginning to rub softly from side to side]
Guess I better take responsibility, huh.
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[Eager enough that it's hard to tell if it's an answer to his question or just reaction to his touch. Her eyes fall shut as she rolls into his fingers, her own hands digging in more tightly to his hips]
You--you can take whatever you want...
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[The other hand keeps the same pace, that soft, insistent rubbing falling unconsciously in time with the thrusts]
Anything, huh?
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It's a few of those long, deliberate strokes before she recalls she's been spoken to--before she can put together a breathless response]
...Anything, if it's you.
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[It's very gentle - surprisingly chaste, considering that his fingers haven't stopped that slow, steady rhythm]
Whatever you wanna give me. Whenever you wanna give it to me.
And - you can have whatever you want, too. Okay? Always.
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[Even as she maintains the gentle rocking into his hands, she curls against him in turn, pressing a damp kiss to the crook of his shoulder as her arms wind around his back]
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