[milliways] Lost for you, I'm so lost for you

[dejah_thoris]

[ cont'd from here ]

'More private' to her right now simply means away from people.  She takes his hand and leads him into the shadows, moving down the beach away from the music and the flickering light of the bonfire.  The white sand beach is flat here, gently sloping down to the waterline.  The quiet envelopes them, the susurration of the waves the only sound save for the occasional distant laughter.

Her blood still sings with the heat of his kiss, her breath ragged and shallow even as she attempts to calm herself.  She can feel him, deeper now than ever before.  If she is like fire to him, then he is red hot metal, radiating strength and something more.  Something raw.  Powerful.  She's almost afraid to look too closely, terrified she'll see what she wants to see and not the truth.

But this doesn't feel like simple lust to her.  They've skirted around that for months now.  But this is different.  This feels real.

"Curtis..."  So many words crowd up behind her teeth, catching in the back of her throat.  She glances at him, watching the distant firelight catch in his eyelashes.  When she speaks, all that comes out is,

"I love you."

Comments

[2goodarms]

Curtis's pulse rushes in his ears, matching the hiss of the ocean waves. When he asked, he'd been expecting another deferral. Later. Not yet. The whole night feels deeply unreal, like he's wandered into a dream: the fine clothes, the minute readjustments as he settled back into his own body, the rush of feeling, the soft, buzzy haze the champagne's kicked in.

And now Dejah's guiding him deeper into the dream, her hand light in his.

Here. Now.

"I love you too." He steps closer, settling his free hand on her shoulder. "God. So much."

[dejah_thoris]

"Yes." The word comes out as a puff of laughter, a firecracker of delight. She swallows and blinks hard a couple of times, the wash of his emotions so intense it almost hurts. Something in her chest feels like old scar tissue, tearing, breaking, falling away.

She closes her eyes, drops her cheek to rest on the back of his hand, holding him there.

"Slow," she whispers, her smile nervous but still ten thousand volts bright.

[2goodarms]

He nods: of course.

Curtis turns his hand to cradle her cheek. His thumb sketches a line along her cheekbone; he presses a kiss to her forehead, then the bridge of her nose, before catching her mouth in another long, hungry kiss.

His other hand works free of hers, lands against her back, pushes her closer, their hips flush together.

[dejah_thoris]

She falls into him again, arms encircling his neck, hands skimming through his hair. She breathes him in, and exhales bliss, letting his touch chase away the moths fluttering behind her breastbone. There's been so much fear and anxiety these last few weeks. So much tension. She lets it all go and melts against him. She wants this.

Just this. Just the two of them. She's alive and free in his arms. She rises on her tiptoes, her knee rising along the outside of his thigh until her heel can hook behind his calf. Between kisses, she lets slip a quiet, breathless moan.

[2goodarms]

The noise hits straight at the base of his spine, making his breath stutter again. He's used to keeping quiet, smothering down anything before it got too loud; the only sound he makes is a whispered, "Fuck," as he wraps his arms around her, firm, unyielding.

He shifts to get one leg in between hers, pressing in, rocking upward just a little.

"I love hearing you do that."

[dejah_thoris]

He can feel the shiver go through her, rocketing up her spine, down her thighs. Her hips curl hard into that sweet pressure, and she can't breathe. A choked little whimper escapes and she tries to smother it with another laugh. Her hands flutter at the back of his neck.

"The things you do to me..." She speaks, her voice rough and low, telegraphing everything in another twisting sigh.

[2goodarms]

A chuckle bubbles up, sending another wash of warmth over the two of them. Curtis keeps up the slow, steady grind against her, keeps his left arm around her waist as he fists another handful of fabric with his right hand.

"Tell me."

He draws her dress a few inches higher. Another few.

[dejah_thoris]

Temple to temple she dances with him, caught up in the spell they're weaving, disconnected from everyone and everything. The voices of her better angels whisper, 'Decadent. Indulgent. Selfish.' She ignores them.

"Your scent alone makes my mouth water," she confesses. "Your voice wrecks my concentration. You make me forget myself," there's a lick of self-deprecating amusement there.

She drops her head and nips at the side of his throat, another wordless plea muffled against his skin.

[2goodarms]

"Ah -- "

His head arches back, exposing more of his throat to Dejah in wordless encouragement. He rakes the cloth of her dress to mid-thigh, cupping the back of her leg, smoothing his hand over the bare skin

"More. Please."

[dejah_thoris]

He can hear a hitch in her breath but she lifts her knee higher, still leaning into him. Warm lips trail a line of heat over the thin skin of his throat, up to the hollow beneath his ear. "More of this?"

Another quiet, hungry moan feathers against his pulse, and then the sharp edge of her teeth graze back down to gently fix in the top of his shoulder.

[2goodarms]

"Yes. Fuck -- "

He clamps down on an answering moan, eyes shut. His hand still roams at Dejah's thigh, moving higher, inward.

A slight problem, though: they're getting pretty tangled up doing all this teenagers-on-prom-night groping. And between the champagne buzz and the lust spinning through his head, Curtis is a little unsteady on his feet.

When he shifts the leg between her thighs, he wobbles, tries to disentangle himself, and lets out a very unsexy yelp as he topples backward.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah's too enrapt in him to notice until they're past the tipping point, too wrapped up in him to extricate herself in time. She echoes his squawk of surprise and then the air goes out of her as she lands on top of him in a heap. Luckily the sand here is soft, and the next breath she draws is full of bright, happy laughter. Her head rests on his chest with a gentle thunk.

"Is this what they mean by 'swept off my feet'?"

[2goodarms]

Curtis is laughing too hard to answer -- full, helpless, uncontrollable laughter like she's never heard from him before. He manages a nod before thumping his head back onto the sand, and one arm comes up to cover his eyes.

Give him a minute. Maybe two.

[dejah_thoris]

If she wasn't drunk on the sound of his voice before, his laughter sends her right over the edge. It's like music on her skin. Like nothing she's ever heard before.

She laughs with him, her hands slipping under his jacket, gripping the thin fabric in her fists. She squirms her way up his body and snuggles up under his arm, still giggling in a manner wholly unbecoming a Jeddak.

[2goodarms]

"Sorry," he finally wheezes out. "Sorry -- "

He plants a firm kiss on the top of her head, shoulders continuing to shake with the last bits of laughter. "My bad. Sorry about that."

[dejah_thoris]

Her laughter melts into a playful growl, and she shakes her head.

"Oh no." She shimmies her way up until she's perched on his chest, looking down. "You are not getting off that easily. No, sir."

[2goodarms]

He cocks an eyebrow. "Really."

Do tell, Dejah. On top of him like that, her dress is already halfway to her hips; Curtis grabs hold, slides his hands up to push it higher.

[dejah_thoris]

She purrs, drops her head to nuzzle firmly under his jaw, indicating she intended to pick up right where she left off.

"Yes, really. Did you think a little tumble would break me?" Warm, wet lips finds that spot again. The one that made him curse and shudder. Goddess, the taste of his skin drove her mad with longing.

[2goodarms]

He inhales sharply, hands fisting in her dress. His eyes flutter shut.

"Never," he breathes. His back curves up as he pulls her hips down, keeping her firm against him.

[dejah_thoris]

She cheats. She slips her knee between his legs, hooks her heel behind his calf. He pulls her in and she lifts her thigh. It was such sweet torture when he did it to her. It's only fair that she should return the favor, right?

All the while, she explores the side of his throat, learning how soft is too soft, how sharp is just sharp enough. Memorizing the sound of his sighs, the way his breath hitches just so. Giving him all of her laser focus, all of her meticulous attention to detail. She wants him to feel like he's the center of her universe right now.

Because he is.

[2goodarms]

Curtis keeps as quiet as he can, old habits taking hold, but that makes every gasp, every whispered, fervent curse, and every barely-contained groan strike out through the Voice like an arrow. It's amazing. It's fucking amazing. He bears down on her thigh without being conscious of it, urging her closer, begging for all the contact he can get.

At some point, he realizes he's still clutching at her dress. Curtis lets go -- and moves his hands underneath instead.

[dejah_thoris]

She needs more. One hand twitches his tie apart, fumbles with the button on his shirt until she gets it open. She shifts higher, painting his skin with lingering, wet kisses. She feels his hand touch the bare skin at the back of her thigh and she shudders out a breath. Her hips roll into his, dancing with him again, teasing him with a hint of sweet friction.

"I love you," she whispers, and deep in the growing connection between them, he can feel her trembling to say it.

[2goodarms]

"Love you," he breathes; he meets her as her hips arc down, drawing out what she gives him.

His hand sweeps around to the front of her thigh. Moves closer to center, seeking out a deeper warmth.

Maybe they're not going to strip down right here on the beach, but thank god for skirts, because they make this really, really easy. He can give her more. He will gladly give her more.

[dejah_thoris]

She goes stock still in his arms. Her head drops to rest on his shoulder, and he can feel her breathing, rough and shallow.

Gingerly, she shifts. She rises to rest her brow against his. Her lips hover over his, and in every breath, he can feel her opening, like a blossom in the warm summer sun. He is welcome. He is loved.

[2goodarms]

Curtis smiles. If it's a little nervous, well, those nerves vanish quickly enough as his smile finds its foothold.

If you don't want kids, and contraceptives went extinct decades ago, you pick up some tricks. You get good at this kind of thing. He lavishes the same attention on her that she'd turned his way, feeling the quickening of her pulse against his skin, listening to each breath, everything spoken and unspoken that courses around and over and through both of them, adjusting each time like riding the crest of a wave.

When he kisses her, it's infinitely gentle, a deliberate contrast to the rest of the moment.