( jacket or not, she can feel the frigidity of the metal cutting through the fabric, but she finds herself savoring the crisp sting in contrast to the travels of his palms — hot to the touch, teeth where her pulse lurches up, as if evidence of what he did to her, how he unraveled her so easily. (does he know what he's done, feeding her this way? how insatiable she can be?) it runs rampant beneath her skin, a thunderous sound she can't help but to wonder if he can hear, taste, lingering so close.
his hold circles beneath her knee and her limbs respond without so much as a thought, hitching her leg up higher to his side, allowing him to slot between her thighs, exposing bare skin courtesy the slit in her dress. a tasteful divide that could hardly be seen as inappropriate, but undoubtedly chosen with him in mind — that tendency of his to station his palm across her lap while he drove, how often one or the other tempted the touch higher — a seedling of want already planted before the night had begun.
lithe fingers lose themselves within the thick chocolate of his locks, as if to encourage his affections where he'd started them, and when the curse breaks between them he's hardly gotten the words out before she gives a brief flit of fingers at their side, red tendrils cloaking the latch if only for a moment before the lock shifts from its rightful place.
a tug at his hair in encouragement, lips parting to brush against his. )
I have a present. ( it's spoken like silk, low and sweet as she shrugs shrugs a shoulder, allowing the thin strap of her dress to drop, revealing only a hint of the matching lingerie that waits beneath.
she juts a thumb to press at his mouth before he can utter a word. ) Just a taste. ( she tuts, dragging his lip downward til it stumbles to his chin, trailing his throat with a wicked smile. ) You can unwrap it later.
[ she knows just how encouraging it is for him when her fingers tug just like that, sending little pinpricks racing along his skin to gather hungrily in his core, bursting with the husky oh that falls from his lips. it’s a promise, a warning, maybe, in response to the gift she dangles right before his eyes as he pulls back just enough to look.
and look he does. the heat darkens in gaze as his mouth parts beneath her thumb, his throat working around a swallow when her touch blazes hot in its wake. the red lace peeks just above the draped satin of her dress and lays stark against her skin, outlining glimpses beneath the delicate pattern. she’ll feel his chuckle more than hear it, the rumble winding tight with his quickened pulse. she must know how he gets when she smiles at him like that, when she teases with that touch at his throat. he’s sensitive there.
the latche releases with a twist of his wrist and he holds her weight against him with his grip under her leg. the door gives beneath them, but he only steps in enough to get to the other side, to push her back against its warm side until it’s slamming shut again, perhaps with more force than needed. she can handle it. the lock clicks back into place, loud in the empty service corridor, lit only by dim floor lights.
this is what she wants, isn’t it? him, exploiting that slit, the satin of her dress pooling at his wrist as his touch carves up her thigh to greedily touch whatever skin he can reach? his other hand, lifting off the lock to delve into her hair, to gather the carefully styled locks into a tangled handful, a sharp tug so his mouth can find purchase at her clavicles. it’s soft only briefly before a bite scrapes hard against its ridge. ]
( it's a swift motion that leaves her momentarily dazed, the unforgiving breath of winter exchanged for something warmer, darker, only able to make out his features given he's so close. the breath that'd been held at her throat with the motion is quickly dispelled with the force of his pinning her right back in place, only mirrored, now, inside where the cold couldn't reach— and, advantageously, all to himself. a bite to her collar, a fistful of her hair that exposes the heart of her throat as he tugs her head back into a lustful crane.
a low, sultry moan escapes her, seemingly accentuated given the unoccupied space. )
Unless you feel like sharing. ( she certainly didn't— surely there was another means to access the room they've managed themselves into from the inside, but what was the probability someone would come wandering this way? the comment serves dual purposes, to goad that possessive urge of his, and the last bit of warning to be heeded, should they want to indulge their pleasures uninterrupted.
only, she's not particularly gifted at staying quiet, something he knows well of her, and while he mars at her collar with teeth and lips alike, she's making quick work of the upper buttons of his dress shirt. impatience tugs another free where it meets his sternum, snaking her palm in to feel the heated plane of his chest, upward to round his shoulder where nails find purchase.
with her weight lifted from the floor she's every bit at mercy of his pacing, but that doesn't mean she can't make her insistence known: heel digging at the back of his thigh, assisting the roll of her hips seeking out any bit of friction they can find. she stays hushed for what she can, clinging to a fraying self control. )
I don't, [ he answers, and she knows well that he never does, but it gets to him anyway, ricochets up the stakes just how she wants it to. an answering hum of his gets pressed to her skin, one that frays at the edges as the sound of her moan starts to take him apart at the seams.
but he's bad at heeding warnings. he's good at weighing and assessing them, at coming up with a plan, but to actually back off is not in his nature. it's possible for someone to stumble upon them, but they'll hear footsteps, or a door, or the lights will flicker on and give them a real warning, so for now, it only ups the urgency. they'll take advantage of what moments they have.
he easily follows the roll of her hips, his growing hardness pressing to her heat, that satin loosening the slide between them in a teasing, frustrating way. but her warm touch makes up for it, then the prickle of her nails making his voice hitch, and before her words are even out, his hand untangles from her hair and trails down the side of her neck, over the mount of a breast, down the curve of her waist before sliding beneath the satin. his fingers tease at the edge of the satin at her hip and follows it along the inner bend. ]
I know, [ he breathes, pulling back just enough to slide his hand between them, to cup her at her core. ] You've had this on all night--you must've been thinking about it, hm? How fucking crazy you'd make me when you finally told me?
( his palm leaves a blaze in its trail, large enough against her petite stature to bracket the width of her neck, find a perfect palm of her chest before finding home beneath the satin that brushes smooth against her skin, easy to manipulate, bunch, tear if he weren't careful. she could be honest, tell him the lingerie was intended for when they were tucked away in the solitude of their hotel suite— it's not as if she intended for her appetite to spike the way it did, but she should've known better. him in a suit and tie, however common it was during the season, did the job on its own.
a sharp intake of a breath when he palms at the apex of her thighs, hips giving a responsive little rut at the touch, as if it only served to rile her further than grant her any gratification. with scarlet tendrils released she's able to steal a glance between them, the tanned expanse of his abdomen with the way his shirt billows and where his wrist disappears where she needs it most. )
I thought you might discover it for yourself.
( teeth latch onto the inner of her cheek, tipping her head to the side only for lips to brush his temple, sure he'll feel the heated breath curl against the shell of his ear. she can't help but to clutch wherever she touches, free hand finding a clasp at the forearm that divides them, an urging, clear-polished nails biting in as they so often did. )
And later you will, when I'm on top of you. ( eyes flutter closed, frustration kindling betwixt her hips. ) For all your impatience, you seem to enjoy making me wait.
[ he hums in response to her frustrated words, a warm, questioning thing, as if he's giving any real consideration to thinking through what they're doing. as if logical thought was any part of the decision to shut them into this dark room in the first place. his hand follows the shift of her hips, giving barely any satisfaction to the motion despite the grip of her own hand.
he can feel her nails biting through the thin fabric of the dress shirt, digging in the way he revels in, when they're entwined, that edge of pain making pleasure even sharper in its wake. now, the prickle sends anticipation up his spine, only made worse with the promise in her words, heated so close to his ear. ]
Sorry baby, I didn't know I was making it so bad for you.
[ he's teasing, and it's obvious in his tone, its false empathy drawn out, low and husky as he shifts, his free hand finding her thigh to support her. she'll hear his smile. the palm between her legs shifts so his fingers trace along her slit, feeling the heat of her through the thin lace of her panties, slowly whetting beneath his fingers as he drifts only gently for now. he can only imagine the lace, the bright red colour stark between her thighs, dark where they're damp, how gorgeous she'd look, deliciously perched over him, all that scarlet draped around her shoulders, the swell of her breasts as she draws heavy breaths. ]
You didn't say what you want. Is it--this? [ fingers trace a broad, lazy circle around her clit before zoning in to rock against her just the way she likes it, just enough pressure to give her something with tight little rubs. ]
Or... more? [ his teeth find the lobe of her ear, scraping along its outer shell, careful of her earrings as he pulls his hand away, only to slip it beneath her panties, no doubt stretching the delicate fabric as he parts her folds with his touch. his exhale catches a hint of a groan, feeling his digits slip against her hot core. ] Like this? Tell me.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
his hold circles beneath her knee and her limbs respond without so much as a thought, hitching her leg up higher to his side, allowing him to slot between her thighs, exposing bare skin courtesy the slit in her dress. a tasteful divide that could hardly be seen as inappropriate, but undoubtedly chosen with him in mind — that tendency of his to station his palm across her lap while he drove, how often one or the other tempted the touch higher — a seedling of want already planted before the night had begun.
lithe fingers lose themselves within the thick chocolate of his locks, as if to encourage his affections where he'd started them, and when the curse breaks between them he's hardly gotten the words out before she gives a brief flit of fingers at their side, red tendrils cloaking the latch if only for a moment before the lock shifts from its rightful place.
a tug at his hair in encouragement, lips parting to brush against his. )
I have a present. ( it's spoken like silk, low and sweet as she shrugs shrugs a shoulder, allowing the thin strap of her dress to drop, revealing only a hint of the matching lingerie that waits beneath.
she juts a thumb to press at his mouth before he can utter a word. ) Just a taste. ( she tuts, dragging his lip downward til it stumbles to his chin, trailing his throat with a wicked smile. ) You can unwrap it later.
no subject
and look he does. the heat darkens in gaze as his mouth parts beneath her thumb, his throat working around a swallow when her touch blazes hot in its wake. the red lace peeks just above the draped satin of her dress and lays stark against her skin, outlining glimpses beneath the delicate pattern. she’ll feel his chuckle more than hear it, the rumble winding tight with his quickened pulse. she must know how he gets when she smiles at him like that, when she teases with that touch at his throat. he’s sensitive there.
the latche releases with a twist of his wrist and he holds her weight against him with his grip under her leg. the door gives beneath them, but he only steps in enough to get to the other side, to push her back against its warm side until it’s slamming shut again, perhaps with more force than needed. she can handle it. the lock clicks back into place, loud in the empty service corridor, lit only by dim floor lights.
this is what she wants, isn’t it? him, exploiting that slit, the satin of her dress pooling at his wrist as his touch carves up her thigh to greedily touch whatever skin he can reach? his other hand, lifting off the lock to delve into her hair, to gather the carefully styled locks into a tangled handful, a sharp tug so his mouth can find purchase at her clavicles. it’s soft only briefly before a bite scrapes hard against its ridge. ]
I don’t feel like waiting.
no subject
a low, sultry moan escapes her, seemingly accentuated given the unoccupied space. )
Unless you feel like sharing. ( she certainly didn't— surely there was another means to access the room they've managed themselves into from the inside, but what was the probability someone would come wandering this way? the comment serves dual purposes, to goad that possessive urge of his, and the last bit of warning to be heeded, should they want to indulge their pleasures uninterrupted.
only, she's not particularly gifted at staying quiet, something he knows well of her, and while he mars at her collar with teeth and lips alike, she's making quick work of the upper buttons of his dress shirt. impatience tugs another free where it meets his sternum, snaking her palm in to feel the heated plane of his chest, upward to round his shoulder where nails find purchase.
with her weight lifted from the floor she's every bit at mercy of his pacing, but that doesn't mean she can't make her insistence known: heel digging at the back of his thigh, assisting the roll of her hips seeking out any bit of friction they can find. she stays hushed for what she can, clinging to a fraying self control. )
I need you.
no subject
but he's bad at heeding warnings. he's good at weighing and assessing them, at coming up with a plan, but to actually back off is not in his nature. it's possible for someone to stumble upon them, but they'll hear footsteps, or a door, or the lights will flicker on and give them a real warning, so for now, it only ups the urgency. they'll take advantage of what moments they have.
he easily follows the roll of her hips, his growing hardness pressing to her heat, that satin loosening the slide between them in a teasing, frustrating way. but her warm touch makes up for it, then the prickle of her nails making his voice hitch, and before her words are even out, his hand untangles from her hair and trails down the side of her neck, over the mount of a breast, down the curve of her waist before sliding beneath the satin. his fingers tease at the edge of the satin at her hip and follows it along the inner bend. ]
I know, [ he breathes, pulling back just enough to slide his hand between them, to cup her at her core. ] You've had this on all night--you must've been thinking about it, hm? How fucking crazy you'd make me when you finally told me?
no subject
a sharp intake of a breath when he palms at the apex of her thighs, hips giving a responsive little rut at the touch, as if it only served to rile her further than grant her any gratification. with scarlet tendrils released she's able to steal a glance between them, the tanned expanse of his abdomen with the way his shirt billows and where his wrist disappears where she needs it most. )
I thought you might discover it for yourself.
( teeth latch onto the inner of her cheek, tipping her head to the side only for lips to brush his temple, sure he'll feel the heated breath curl against the shell of his ear. she can't help but to clutch wherever she touches, free hand finding a clasp at the forearm that divides them, an urging, clear-polished nails biting in as they so often did. )
And later you will, when I'm on top of you. ( eyes flutter closed, frustration kindling betwixt her hips. ) For all your impatience, you seem to enjoy making me wait.
no subject
he can feel her nails biting through the thin fabric of the dress shirt, digging in the way he revels in, when they're entwined, that edge of pain making pleasure even sharper in its wake. now, the prickle sends anticipation up his spine, only made worse with the promise in her words, heated so close to his ear. ]
Sorry baby, I didn't know I was making it so bad for you.
[ he's teasing, and it's obvious in his tone, its false empathy drawn out, low and husky as he shifts, his free hand finding her thigh to support her. she'll hear his smile. the palm between her legs shifts so his fingers trace along her slit, feeling the heat of her through the thin lace of her panties, slowly whetting beneath his fingers as he drifts only gently for now. he can only imagine the lace, the bright red colour stark between her thighs, dark where they're damp, how gorgeous she'd look, deliciously perched over him, all that scarlet draped around her shoulders, the swell of her breasts as she draws heavy breaths. ]
You didn't say what you want. Is it--this? [ fingers trace a broad, lazy circle around her clit before zoning in to rock against her just the way she likes it, just enough pressure to give her something with tight little rubs. ]
Or... more? [ his teeth find the lobe of her ear, scraping along its outer shell, careful of her earrings as he pulls his hand away, only to slip it beneath her panties, no doubt stretching the delicate fabric as he parts her folds with his touch. his exhale catches a hint of a groan, feeling his digits slip against her hot core. ] Like this? Tell me.