His hand at the nape of her neck. When she is in trouble his hand usually goes there, nothing painful, but firm, keeping a grip on her, controlling her in a way that is impossible to escape from. She feels his hand on her and she gasps out into the kiss that they are sharing. The second kiss, the second kiss, better then the first, with more of his mouth, with him kissing back, truly kissing back. He tastes like how she expected him to taste, like cigarettes and the generic flavor of kiss when it's not tainted by food or by toothpaste.
And she just kisses, her hands on her knees, gripping the fabric of her skirt, too nervous, too uncertain to find a way to move her hands and her mouth all at the same time. There is a panic, a shock at this, kissing, she instigated it but when in the thick of things her whole body just seems to freeze and she is left perched on the edge of the bed, leaning into him and gasping when he finally breaks the kiss.
Why is he stopping? There should be no stopping.
He doesn't want to, she can tell, the way that he looks at her, the caress of his fingers. He is practically vibrating with it, or perhaps that's her. There is no higher thinking at this point, just want, and all the things he whispers and all the things she knows isn't going to stop her from moving toward him. Her fingers finally moving to his shirt as she slips from the bed and toward his lap.
"I love you," a kiss on his mouth once again. "Isn't this what people do when they love someone?" Her lips on his throat, her fingers pushing and grabbing to pull his shirt from the waistband of his pants.
"C'mon, bad man," against his throat, tongue tasting and teeth nipping at the skin there. "Encourage me in this situation."
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Date: 2012-07-29 05:04 pm (UTC)And she just kisses, her hands on her knees, gripping the fabric of her skirt, too nervous, too uncertain to find a way to move her hands and her mouth all at the same time. There is a panic, a shock at this, kissing, she instigated it but when in the thick of things her whole body just seems to freeze and she is left perched on the edge of the bed, leaning into him and gasping when he finally breaks the kiss.
Why is he stopping? There should be no stopping.
He doesn't want to, she can tell, the way that he looks at her, the caress of his fingers. He is practically vibrating with it, or perhaps that's her. There is no higher thinking at this point, just want, and all the things he whispers and all the things she knows isn't going to stop her from moving toward him. Her fingers finally moving to his shirt as she slips from the bed and toward his lap.
"I love you," a kiss on his mouth once again. "Isn't this what people do when they love someone?" Her lips on his throat, her fingers pushing and grabbing to pull his shirt from the waistband of his pants.
"C'mon, bad man," against his throat, tongue tasting and teeth nipping at the skin there. "Encourage me in this situation."