[Her smile, if possible, only grows more satisfied, and she does that silent giggle that only Seraphim can manage as he grabs her wrist. She knees up, so she's not leaning over him anymore, but still managing not to touch his legs, and she takes his hand off hers and shakes her head, presses a finger of her dry hand to her mouth, as if shush can mean don't touch.
When her hands are free, she palms her breasts, rolls her nipples, and then moves her hands down so they're on her thighs-
-and then slides them on his thighs, just like that, her fingers going up to the waistband of his trousers, to under his shirt, so the tips of her fingers are just against his hipbones.
And she tugs a bit, scoots in closer, and finally lowers her weight onto his legs, her feet tucking up under his knees.
no subject
When her hands are free, she palms her breasts, rolls her nipples, and then moves her hands down so they're on her thighs-
-and then slides them on his thighs, just like that, her fingers going up to the waistband of his trousers, to under his shirt, so the tips of her fingers are just against his hipbones.
And she tugs a bit, scoots in closer, and finally lowers her weight onto his legs, her feet tucking up under his knees.
Right up against his hip-]
No hands on me. Not yet.