[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]
[This earns a soft cry as she follows his lead, trembling a bit as she hitches up into him, as if trying hard to stay slow and steady. She doesn't have any words to follow, but does angle her head towards him, attempting to kiss her way closer to his mouth]
[He seems to pick up on her intentions - leans in to meet her halfway]
[The kiss is slow and deep and sweet; the pace of his fingers falls in line to match, not the teasing too-light touches of before, but nor does he go any faster. For the moment, he seems content to enjoy the way she enjoys this, drawing it out and letting it build]
[She groans softly into the kiss, curling her fingers into his hair and clutching back at his fingers in turn.
She breaks the kiss for a few quick catch-breaths only to fall back into it, brushing over his face and nipping at his lower lip--calls his name again more to hear it than anything]
[His smile goes warm and crooked and very fond, at the sound of his name on her lips]
[He presses another kiss to her cheekbone, and then to the shell of her ear. The finger inside her crooks, curling forward - searches for the spot he found last time, that got such a good reaction]
[There's nothing at first, perhaps a little extra squirm or shiver. But then he brushes just so, right--there, and she tenses, breath suddenly caught in her throat and mouth in a surprised little 'o'.
It's probably easier to find that spot if he tries again, with how tightly she clenches around him, as if attempting to lock him in place, if not draw him deeper]
[He kisses at her ear again - carries on down the column of her neck, soft]
[She doesn't hve to worry about him staying in place; now that he's found the spot, he doesn't mean to let it go, rubbing small circles into it with the pad of his finger]
[Suddenly her breath goes unstuck, heaving out of her in a surprised little cry. Each breath after that goes voiced as well, rising in pitch almost as if in alarm. Though any surprise seems more than welcome from the sure grip at his shoulders as she rides his hand.
...Or at least, attempts to; it's not long at all before that enthusiastic rhythm has gone desperate and jerky despite her best efforts]
[His fingers keep up their gentle rubbing, one against that spot inside her and the other at the sensitive nub in front]
[He presses another kiss to her neck, whisper-soft, then pulls back just a little to look at her face, wanting badly to see the expression that goes with those sounds]
[From the look of it, she couldn't stop herself if she tried, rocking desperately between the relentless press of his fingers too hard and fast to last long. Her brows ridge, eyes squeezing shut and lips parting in a rising tide of breathless gasps and snapping hips and--
she cries out, high and helpless--arcs towards him like a live wire, head thrown back as every muscle in her body tenses--clamps vise-tight around him as release slams into her; drags her away in the undertow]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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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Yeah?
[He starts to speed the pace, a little, the insistent rubbing of his fingers a little firmer now]
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[The kiss is slow and deep and sweet; the pace of his fingers falls in line to match, not the teasing too-light touches of before, but nor does he go any faster. For the moment, he seems content to enjoy the way she enjoys this, drawing it out and letting it build]
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She breaks the kiss for a few quick catch-breaths only to fall back into it, brushing over his face and nipping at his lower lip--calls his name again more to hear it than anything]
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[He presses another kiss to her cheekbone, and then to the shell of her ear. The finger inside her crooks, curling forward - searches for the spot he found last time, that got such a good reaction]
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It's probably easier to find that spot if he tries again, with how tightly she clenches around him, as if attempting to lock him in place, if not draw him deeper]
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[She doesn't hve to worry about him staying in place; now that he's found the spot, he doesn't mean to let it go, rubbing small circles into it with the pad of his finger]
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...Or at least, attempts to; it's not long at all before that enthusiastic rhythm has gone desperate and jerky despite her best efforts]
Jacob-- I-I--
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[He presses another kiss to her neck, whisper-soft, then pulls back just a little to look at her face, wanting badly to see the expression that goes with those sounds]
Go on. Take what you need.
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she cries out, high and helpless--arcs towards him like a live wire, head thrown back as every muscle in her body tenses--clamps vise-tight around him as release slams into her; drags her away in the undertow]
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