[She considers it for a moment. Considers everything, but then her hands are running at the line of his trousers, and her fingers write against his hips, inching his shirt up to find skin.]
Now it really feels like he's bloody suffocating, just a little. His breath catches, muscles tense and seize up, and the shift of his hand is almost automatic--fingers touched against her cheek one second, and then down, following the curve of her jaw, skimmed along her neck.]
Yeah. [And then, right--] Only if you want.
[Or don't want, to stop, or-- whatever. He leans in to kiss her again, fingers hooked in to the neck of her shirt.]
[Yes, he does, absolutely he does. A great deal, and then some. He pushes closer when she tightens her grip; when she backs up, he starts to follow, lists closer, a little like she's got a string tied to him and he just has to follow after.
He stops himself before he crashes into her or anything, making a quick study of her face. And then, right, yes, this is what he wants. His mouth tastes of space liquor and her fingers are warm and he moves in to kiss her again, as his hand slips down between them, pushing up the hem of her shirt.]
[She wiggles a bit, to help tug at her shirt, to get it off, and maybe this is a bad idea but Seraphim isn't thinking about that. She's thinking, instead, about how much she missed him touching her when she didn't really like anyone touching her, how she missed his weight, how she missed him. How she doesn't know if this fixes everything or if it even begins to patch up what is wrong between them, but that she doesn't care, how the impulse is too strong for her to resist.
And maybe the sex will be better, now that she has a better idea of his body and her own, now that this is less measured and more on the spot, hands and mouth wherever she can get them, her body against his.]
[Probably this is a terrible idea, and not healthy for any of the involved parties. And yet here's Sirius, going with it. He tugs off of Sera's shirt, slips his hand back down and fits it over the swell and curve of one of her breasts, a grip that's just a little rough, just a little clumsier than he might otherwise be, without alcohol muddling things.
Not that muddled, still. He knows what he's doing, how to kiss and how to shift his hands, his weight. And they do seem to fit together better, this time--good enough that he's got one hand fumbling at the fastenings of her trousers before very long, breaking the kiss only to suck in a ragged little breath.]
[She goes along with it, follows his movements, tugs at fabric, presses herself against him even as she wiggles a bit to get naked, so he can look at her if he wants, or touch her more. Once she has her trousers off, she works on her shirt and underthings not pausing. If she pauses she will think about it and she will stop, and she doesn't want to.
Then she's tugging at his clothes, trying to undo buttons and fastenings, her fingers lingering on skin where she can. She looks at him, at the planes of his stomach, and the storm color of his eyes, and kisses him again, presses her mouth against his neck and collarbone, doesn't stop long enough to let him think about it, either.]
[He absolutely wants to look, even if it's just in pieces, bits of skin between kisses. And he moves, obligingly, so she can get his clothes off as well--shirt, jeans, pants--kicking off socks without moving away from her, all the touches of her hands, the heat of her skin against his, the friction of movement sending chills up his arms, up the back of his neck.
There's no thought for stopping. There's just Sera, under him, a warm comfort. It's easy this time to fit himself to her, to slip a hand between them--over the raised and flat planes of breast, stomach, hip--fingers pushed between her legs, just the start of a touch as he opens his mouth against hers for a deeper kiss. It's easy to get lost in this moment, in the warmth of her, the push of her against him, a reward in itself.]
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no subject
We don't have to stop.
no subject
lin
Now it really feels like he's bloody suffocating, just a little. His breath catches, muscles tense and seize up, and the shift of his hand is almost automatic--fingers touched against her cheek one second, and then down, following the curve of her jaw, skimmed along her neck.]
Yeah. [And then, right--] Only if you want.
[Or don't want, to stop, or-- whatever. He leans in to kiss her again, fingers hooked in to the neck of her shirt.]
no subject
Yes, yes.
Don't stop.
[She backs up a bit, then gauging his interest, her smile and the tilt of her head asking don't you? in a teasing! suggestive way.]
no subject
He stops himself before he crashes into her or anything, making a quick study of her face. And then, right, yes, this is what he wants. His mouth tastes of space liquor and her fingers are warm and he moves in to kiss her again, as his hand slips down between them, pushing up the hem of her shirt.]
no subject
And maybe the sex will be better, now that she has a better idea of his body and her own, now that this is less measured and more on the spot, hands and mouth wherever she can get them, her body against his.]
no subject
Not that muddled, still. He knows what he's doing, how to kiss and how to shift his hands, his weight. And they do seem to fit together better, this time--good enough that he's got one hand fumbling at the fastenings of her trousers before very long, breaking the kiss only to suck in a ragged little breath.]
no subject
Then she's tugging at his clothes, trying to undo buttons and fastenings, her fingers lingering on skin where she can. She looks at him, at the planes of his stomach, and the storm color of his eyes, and kisses him again, presses her mouth against his neck and collarbone, doesn't stop long enough to let him think about it, either.]
no subject
There's no thought for stopping. There's just Sera, under him, a warm comfort. It's easy this time to fit himself to her, to slip a hand between them--over the raised and flat planes of breast, stomach, hip--fingers pushed between her legs, just the start of a touch as he opens his mouth against hers for a deeper kiss. It's easy to get lost in this moment, in the warmth of her, the push of her against him, a reward in itself.]