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

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.

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.

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.

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.

Edited 2015-11-30 04:09 (UTC)

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.

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.

"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.

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 -- "

She clings to him, white-knuckled, her head thrown back. Gold pins fall to the sand, and her dark hair spills free. She's drowning in him, in his touch at her shoulder, his teeth on her throat, his fingertips, his voice... His words cut through everything, strike like a lance deep into her chest. She's lost, so very lost to him and it feels right and good and true.

She mouths the words, over and over, her breath caught in her throat. My beloved. My beloved.

He's drawn her entire awareness down to a pinprick of light, a blinding moment of ecstasy waiting to explode. Her body arches hard beneath him, a bow drawn to the very breaking point, and then she goes rigid. He can feel the detonation unfold in slow pulsing waves. She has no choice but to surrender, crying out as it takes her.

His metal hand skids from her shoulder and plunges into the sand as his vision almost whites out. Curtis bites down on a cry of his own, caught in the backdraft, aftershocks making his fingers shake. It's not from him; it's all from her. She's swept him in and he can only ride along, breathless, experiencing every vicarious second stretched to an impossibly long peak, an impossibly long descent.

He leans his forehead against hers, struggling to catch his breath.

Okay, getting someone off while mildly telepathic is officially the best thing ever.

It takes her an eternity to come down, and in that age and a day, he is all she knows. The sensation releases its grip on her like an explosion in reverse, her muscles relaxing one by one, her spine melting back to the sand, her hands going soft against his back. He's breathing like he's just climbed the stairs, and he can feel a flicker of worry from her, surrounded as it is by a golden glow of bliss.

She shifts, just enough to bring her lips into contact with his, the barest breath of a kiss, profoundly tender and as deep as the desert is wide.

You okay?

Curtis Everett of Milliways.

Goddess...

I love you.

He starts to return the kiss -- and then pauses, eyes flying open.

She didn't speak. He's sure of that.

Holy shit. this is what she meant, i didn't know it'd happen so fast Dejah?

"I'm fine," he whispers aloud.

She looks into his face, looks into those amazing blue eyes, and exhales a tiny breath.

"It's all right."

Please Don't be afraid.

"It's not permanent."

I want to make love to you make this ours everlasting by the light of two moons I want you so much.

He nods, still dumbstruck.

don't be an ass This is weird. This is really fucking weird.
I love you. It's okay. I'm okay.

Gently, Curtis settles his forearm against the sand, over her loose hair; he curves his hand around her head and leans down to kiss her again, sweet and slow and lingering.

I want more I want this I want you

This is You're amazing.

She closes her eyes, sinks into kissing him, and he can hear and feel the chorus of affirmation, of agreement, of sounds and scents and sensations all echoing the last few minutes.

She kisses him, mirrors that tenderness back to him, and one hand gently shifts from around his neck. It caresses down his chest, over his belt, coming to cup the heat and hardness she can feel pressed against her hip.

You are so beautiful to me. Let me please you give back to you share with you please My beloved.

He breathes out a low, ragged laugh, millimeters from her lips. "Oh god yes. Please."

The heat surges up through their link, engulfing the last bits of shock and torching them to ash. He's back in the present, back outside his head, hips already arcing back to give Dejah more room. There's nothing so coherent as thought anymore; just a swell of please, yes, please and the acceleration of his heartbeat.

She urges him over onto his back, rising on one elbow to look down on him, her hand never breaking contact. She can feel the radiant heat of his body through the thin fabric, can feel the hard pulse of his heart, hammering like a drumbeat against his ribs. Against her palm.

She hooks her knee over his thigh, pins him just as he pinned her, and sets about learning just what holds him together. She gives him a wicked little grin, and he gets the sense she wants to take him apart and put him back together again. She has deft fingers, strong hands, and a meticulous sensibility in this as in all things.

"Sweet holy fuck," she breathes against his throat, brimming with light and laughter. Her head dips further and she snaps her teeth together right above his skin. Want to drink taste devour you.

Curtis's eyes fall shut, hands fisted into the sand, his head tipping back as he swallows down another moan. His hips push against her, greedy and desperate for every scrap of contact he can get. Every word, every touch hits the base of his spine like a depth charge; the heat coils higher as Dejah's hands work over him, learning him as thoroughly as he'd learned her.

"God, fuck, yes -- "

He wants everything she'll give him. Everything. Teeth and claws and all, everything, just as long as she doesn't stop.

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