[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]

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.

[dejah_thoris]

She feels the touch of his hand and the softness of his kiss in the same breath. Time slows for her. It's been more than a century since she's been touched like this. Goddess, has she missed it. Missed having this one thing that's hers and no one else's.

He doesn't waste a moment, his touch unequivocal. Her focus shrinks even more, drawing down to the feel of his lips on her skin and the brilliant unfolding ecstasy he's unlocking with just the very tips of his fingers. A bone deep shudder runs through her entire body and she doesn't even try to stay quiet. Her hips curl into his hand, her hands fist in his jacket.

"Sweet... Holy mother of us all."

[2goodarms]

Christ, the look on her face alone is nearly enough to undo him. His breath shakes, quickens; much less gently, he mouths a hot, hungry trail of kisses along the side of her jaw, ending with a nip at her earlobe. The echoes of her pleasure reverberate like the strike of a bell.

"God, you're so beautiful," he whispers in her ear.

Like this. Open, free, not caring about anything except the two of them. Her composure utterly lost in what Curtis makes her feel.

[dejah_thoris]

She gives herself over to it. To him. This is more than just a simple act of indulgence. This is a demonstration of how completely and utterly she trusts him. How much faith she puts in him. Maybe he can feel that deeper sentiment running underneath every rough breath, every shuddering sigh.

He can feel her coil and surge beneath his kiss. The feel of his teeth against her throat, her earlobe, stokes the fire in her belly. She growls, groans, strives against his hand. Her body shifts and she rolls to her side, desperate hands pulling him with her. Later, she'll complain about sand in intimate places, but right now, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters but this.

[2goodarms]

She leads. He follows.

He follows eagerly, his free hand landing at her breast, his other hand unceasing, unyielding in its work. They are wearing way too many fucking clothes, and he's just cognizant enough of the distant, tinny sounds of the party to stop himself from wrenching her dress off entirely, throwing off this goddamn suit, making good on that promise to taste every one of the clan markings covering her bare skin.

Curtis rolls again, above her now, as his mouth finds its way back to hers and he kisses her hard.

The trust she puts in him returns twofold: he is safe with her. This won't bring him harm. He can relax, and rest, and actually fucking enjoy himself.

[dejah_thoris]

She tangles her legs with his, curls a hand around the back of his neck. She pulls him into the kiss, meeting it with an almost savage abandon. Her hips buck and grind, but his weight holds her down.

She can taste his raw desire in the lush sweetness of his mouth, in the urgency of his touch. She echoes it back to him, just as raw, just as hungry, but with a tenor of restraint. She wants what he wants, but they both know, it's not the right time or the right place.

But that doesn't mean they can't have this. She wants this, whatever he'll give her. She whimpers, the sound high-pitched, descending, soft cries telling him how close she is, showing him exactly what he's doing to her. The tremor in her body grows more pronounced, every muscle in her body quaking.

[2goodarms]

Her wordless moans light him up, sketch a single plea he answers without hesitation: Don't stop.

He doesn't want this to end. The pulse of her ecstasy, the heat of her body, his own quiet gasps mingling with hers as he works. Curtis bends close to bury his face against her neck, breathing her in; his metal hand doesn't really have any nails, but he rakes his fingers along her shoulder anyway, quick and stinging, as his teeth graze her pulse point.

"I love you," he breathes against her throat, "I love you -- "